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CURSE  ENTAILED. 


BY 


HARRIET  HAMLINE  BIGELOW. 


"  Wo  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  are  like  unto  whited  sepul- 
chres, which  indeed  appear  beautiful  outward,  but  within  are  full  of  dead  men's  bones, 
and  of  all  uncleanness." 


BOSTON: 
WENTWORTH    AND     COMPANY 

CLEVELAND,    OHIO  :     ISAAC    I.   BIGELOW. 
18  5  7. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

HARRIET   DAMLINE   BIGELOW, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Northern  District  of  Ohio. 


LITDOTYPED    BY    THE    AMERICAN   STEREOTYPE   COMPANY, 

28  Pnoraix  Building,  Boston. 


PREFACE. 


The  author  of  this  work  desires  no  one  to  excuse  or 
applaud,  nor  has  she  any  apologies  to  offer  for  writing  the 
book.  She  would,  however,  remark,  that  she  conscientiously 
believes  that  the  book  was  written  under  the  same  pressure 
that  the  Apostle  Paul  felt,  when  he  exclaimed :  "  I  have 
nothing  to  glory  of:  for  necessity  is  laid  upon  me ;  yea,  woe 
is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel!" 

Feeling  that  God  demanded  it,  and  humanity  required  it, 
she  has  simply  done  her  duty,  in  becoming  a  medium  of  truth 
and  sympathy  between  heart  and  heart. 

She  hopes  every  reader  will  feel  his  own  responsibility  in 
relation  to  the  sin  of  slavery. 

The  author  would  say  to  those  who,  on  reading  it,  may 
find  themselves  alluded  to,  that  no  harm  is  intended  to  them ; 
and,  if  they  say  nothing  about  it,  no  harm  will  result. 

H.   H.   B. 


2200627 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Mrs,  Le  Clare  and  her  son  Edward, 1 

Edward  seeks  to  know  about  his  father,          .  2 

Edward  decides  on  going  to  college, 6 

Some  things  are  made  known  to  Edward,      ....  8 
How  Mrs.  Le  Clare  once  lived  in  France,           .        .        .        .11 

Edward  knows  all  he  can  know  of  his  father,          ...  14 

CHAPTER  II. 

Edward  Le  Clare  in  college,              15 

Edward  returns  from  college,         ......  15 

Edward  finds  Mr.  Brownson  pro-slavery, 17 

Edward  returns  again  to  college, 18 

CHAPTER  III. 

Southern  chivalry.  —  Edward  assaulted, 20 

The  officers  wish  to  stop  agitation, 21 

CHAPTER  TV. 

The  mother's  trials.  —  Edward  at  home, 22 

Mr.  Brownson  still  more  pro-slavery,     .        .        .        .        .  23 
Mrs.  Le  Clare  sinks  in  a  swoon,         .        .        .                 .        .24 

Edward  is  advised  as  to  his  expenditures,       ....  25 

CHAPTER  V. 

Edward  returns  again  to  college, 27 

Mrs.  Le  Clare's  letter  to  Edward, 28 

(▼) 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Edward  relates  early  anti-slavery  facto, 30 

The  mob  at  Aurora, 33 

The  assault  at  Hudson, 34 

Edward  encounters  Frank  in  the  hall, 38 

Frank  Le  Rux  writes  to  Edward  Le  Clare, 39 

Edward's  answer  to  Frank, 43 

Edward  writes  to  Mr.  Brownson, 45 

Frank's  second  letter  to  Edward,            .                  .        .        .  46 
Edward's  answer  to  Frank's  second  letter,          .        .        .        .49 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Edward's  third  visit  to  his  mother, 51 

The  sermon  against  anti-slavery  infidelity,  .        .        .        .53 

Edward  Le  Clare's  anti-slavery  lecture,           ....  55 
George  Brownson  and  Edward  Le  Clare  visit  Ella,     .        .        .56 

Unexpected  news.  —  Mrs.  Le  Clare  swoons,            ...  58 

Edward  returns  to  college, 60 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Frank's  third  letter  to  Edward, 61 

Edward's  answer  to  Frank's  third  letter, 62 

Edward's  letter  to  his  mother, 64 

The  fugitive  bill  alarms  Mrs.  Le  Clare, 65 

CHAPTER  VHI. 

Frank  Le  Rux  and  his  cousin  Emily,              ....  66 

Frank's  fourth  letter  to  Edward, 69 

Emily  fells  the  Overseer  —  releases  Julia,       .        .        .        .  71 
Edward's  fourth  answer  to  Frank's  letters,         .         .         .         .74 

Edward  to  his  mother, 76 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  to  Edward, 78 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Scenes  with  Frank  and  Emily, 79 

Julia  sick  in  Emily's  room 81 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  visits  Julia, 84 

The  commencement  of  anti-slavery  agitation,             .        .        .  B~> 

Mr.  Brownson  a  stumbling-block, 87 


CONTENTS.  VII 

CHAPTER  X.  pxgb 

The  horrors  of  slavery  at  the  South, 90 

Old  Dinah's  opinions  of  slavery, 93 

Julia's  dream  —  the  angel  comes, 95 

Dinah's  story  about  the  angel 97 

Fallen  angels  explained  to  Dinah, 102 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  narrative  of  Mrs.  Devony, 104 

The  oath  at  Albert's  death-bed, 109 

Albert  De  Wolfe  dies, .        .111 

Mr.  Devony  sells  Mary,  etc., 127 

Julia's  Bible  from  Mrs.  Devony,     .                 ....  129 

A  scene  over  Julia's  corpse,       .        .                 ....  132 

Emily  solemnly  warns  her  uncle,    .                 ....  133 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Trying  scenes  for  Emily, 134 

Emily  retains  the  corpse  of  Julia, 136 

Joe  stands  on  the  defensive, 138 

Frank  avows  himself  an  abolitionist,      .        .        .        .        .141 

The  Overseer  threatens  vengeance  on  Joe,         ....  144 

CHAPTER  Xm. 

Cholera  among  the  negroes, 145 

Emily  hires  men  to  bury  Julia,           .        .         .  .      .  *      .         .  148 

Mr.  Le  Rux  don't  find  the  corpse, 152 

Emily  speaks  plainly  to  her  uncle, 154 

Old  Dinah  bursts  into  tears, 156 

Emily  has  a  presentiment  of  evil, 157 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Joe  is  whipped  for  obeying  Frank, 158 

Emily  interferes  —  releases  Joe, 159 

Emily  writes  to  her  grandfather, 162 

She  loans  money  to  Mr.  Revey, 165 


VIII  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XV.  pagb 

William  Le  Rux  talks  with  Edward, 166 

Edward's  views  of  slaver}r, 169 

The  brothers  part,  deeply  agitated, 170 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Overseer  takes  the  cholera, 171 

Mr.  Le  Rux  takes  preventive  freely, 172 

Bill,  in  fright,  takes  laudanum  and  dies, 175 

Frank  visits  the  dying  Overseer 178 

Dr.  Willis  is  called  to  Mr.  Le  Rux, 181 

The  slaves  bury  the  Overseer,  in  great  glee,    ....  186 

CHAPTER  XVH. 

The  Fugitive  Law  passes.  —  Mrs.  Le  Clare  dies,        .        .        .  188 

Dr.  Freeman  telegraphs  to  Edward, 189 

Edward's  reflections  on  his  mother's  death,        .        .        .        .191 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  directs  her  own  burial, 194 

Edward  learns  that  his  father  and  sister  live,      ....  195 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

George  Brownson's  conduct  wounds  Ella,       ....       197 

George  argues  to  save  the  Union, 198 

Ella  gives  George  her  opinion  of  him, 199 

James  brings  a  fugitive  woman  and  child,  ....  200 

Ella  outwits  the  woman-stealers, 202 

George  Brownson  kidnaps  Ella  Erskine, 206 

The  slave-catchers  in  the  graveyard, 208 

How  James  learned  to  cry  like  a  baby, 210 

James  explains  to  Mr.  Erskine, 212 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Mr.  Erskine  and  Ella  visit  at  Nathan's, 216 

Nathan's  anti-slavery  dog, 217 

The  fugitive  Nancy  tells  her  story, 218 

Joe  is  found  at  the  depot  —  tells  his  story,     ....      220 
Ella  introduces  Joe  to  Nancy  and  her  baby,       ....  222 


m 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  XX.  PAGE 

Edward  searches  his  mother's  papers, 225 

Mrs.  Le  Clare's  early  remembrances, 226 

Mrs.  Le  Clare's  letters  to  Edward  and  Ella,   ....  229 

Mr.  Camp's  mortgage  on  the  place, 231 

The  maniac  cries  after  George  Brownson,       ....  233 

Edward  examines  his  mother's  jewels, 236 

Mr.  Olmstead  and  Amelia  visit  at  Nathan's,    ....  238 

George  Brownson  is  placarded,  .        .        .        .        .        .  239 

Mr.  Erskine  makes  Ella  a  present, 241 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Ella  writes  the  news  to  Edward, 243 

Mr.  Brownson's  farewell  discourse, 244 

A  sudden  and  awful  death, 245 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

William  Le  Rux  dangerously  sick,         .        .        ...        .  247 

Emily  finds  Dinah  dead, 248 

Emily's  conversation  with  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  ....  250 

Emily's  father  writes  to  Mr.  Le  Roy, 251 

Emily's  father  decides  to  go  North, 254 

CHAPTER  XXHI. 

Edward  Le  Rux  visits  Jew  David, 259 

Jew  David  startles  him  with  facts, 260 

Edward  Le  Rux  leaves  Emily  —  goes  North,     .        .        .        .261 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Joe  cannot  be  found, 264 

Mr.  Le  Rux  has  a  paralytic  shock, 265 

Dr.  Willis  learns  concerning  Julia  De  Wolfe,         .        .        .      267 
The  Jew  visits  the  slave  quarters, 268 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

An  invalid  stranger  arrives  at  C , 275 

Mrs.  Wise  and  Ella  entertain  the  stranger,        .  278 

A  peddler  inqures  after  the  sick  man, 282 

Dr.  Willis  confronts  the  peddler 284 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVI.  page 

Mr.  Livingsworth  introduced  to  Emily,  ....  285 
Mr.  Battell  introduced  to  Frank  and  Emily,  ....  288 
Dr.  Willis  visits  a  prisoner, 290 

CHAPTER  XXVH. 

Edward  Le  Clare  returns  home, 291 

The  sick  man  has  lucid  intervals,    .....         .  292 

The  stranger  learns  where  and  with  whom  he  is,        .        .        .  298 

He  declares  himself  to  be  Edward's  father,    ....  299 

CHAPTER  XXVni. 

Many  mysteries  explained, 302 

Old  Maggy  and  Eddy  admire  Judy, 303 

Eddy  and  Judy  are  companions, 307 

Eddy  becomes  Judy's  teacher, 309 

CHAPTER  XXTX. 

Dr.  Willis  takes  an  interest  in  Judy, 312 

Eddy  leaves  home  to  attend  school, 315 

Edward  Le  Rux  returns  home, 317 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Edward  Le  Rux  elopes  with  Judy, 318 

The  wedding  takes  place  at  Dr.  Willis', 319 

Dr.  Willis  gives  them  gold  and  good  advice,  ....      320 

Emily  born  on  the  passage  to  France, 322 

Edward  Le  Rux  becomes  embarrassed  by  dissipation,  .  .  324 
He  returns  to  America, .        .  325 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Abandons  his  wife  —  takes  away  Edith,  ....  330 
Marries  Miss  Annette  Le  Roy  of  France,  .  .  .  .331 
After  Annette's  death,  disclosures  are  made,  ....  333 
Mr.  Le  Roy  receives  an  unknown  child, 335 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  XXXII.  PAGB 

Edward  Le  Rux  in  agony  of  mind,         .     "    ".         .         .         .341 

He  closes  his  narrative  to  his  son, 342 

Edward  Le  Clare's  reflections, 344 

Edward  finds  a  letter  to  his  father, 346 

Mrs.  Le  Clare's  letter  to  her  husband, 350 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  wishes  to  have  Edward  rescue  Emily,      .         .  .351 

Edward's  father  has  a  relapse  of  fever, 351 

Edward  receives  a  decoy  letter  from  New  Orleans,     .        .  .  353 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

William  Le  Rux  continues  sick, 355 

Mr.  Le  Rux's  gift  of  Lucy  to  the  Bible  Society,           .        .  .  356 

Frank  and  Emily  take  a  walk  at  evening,       ....  358 

The  Jew  visits  William  Le  Rux  on  business,       .         .         .  .  360 

Mr.  Le  Rux  has  another  paralytic  shock,        .  362 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Emily  kidnapped  and  borne  off,         ......  363 

Emily  is  left  in  prison  by  Parker, 364 

Emily  discovers  that  she  is  claimed  as  a  slave,    ....  366 

Emily  becomes  acquainted  with  Fanny,  ....  368 

Color  not  a  foundation  for  slaver)', 372 

Fanny's  early  history  in  Ohio, 374 

How  the  slave  from  Tennessee  cut  her  own  throat,     .        .        .  376 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Fanny  makes  disclosures  to  Emily, 378 

Mariana  is  introduced  to  Emily, 379 

Emily  learns  that  Mrs.  Le  Roy  died  there,     ....       381 

Nehemiah  introduced  —  is  sick, 382 

Mariana  swears  to  her  own  identity, 384 

Emily  mesmerizes  Mariana, 385 

Mariana  becomes  quiet  —  makes  disclosures,  .        .        .      387 

CHAPTER  XXXVEI. 

At  Mr.  Le  Rux's  house  —  Emily  missing,           ....  393 
Mr.  Le  Rux's  funeral  eulogium, 395 


XII  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII.  PAGE 

Edward  Le  Clare  agonized  in  mind, 398 

Edward  tells  his  history  and  condition  to  Dr.  Freeman,  .  400 

Edward  looks  on  himself  as  a  slave  and  outcast,  .         .         .  402 

Edward's  father  finds  peace,  and  dies, 405 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Mariana  tells  her  history  to  Emily, 408 

Armed  men  murder  her  husband, 409 

Mariana  taken  by  Moloch  to  his  prison-house,    .         .         .         .411 
Emily  fills  the  priming-holes  with  grease,        .         .         .         .414 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Emily  finds  and  secures  the  pistols, 418 

Mariana  relates  what  Jew  David  said, 422 

They  sell  Mariana's  child  —  the  effect,         .         .                 .        .423 
Emily's  reflections  on  her  condition, 424 

CHAPTER  XLL 

Moloch  returns  to  his  prison-house, 426 

Livingsworth  introduces  himself  to  Emily,      ....       427 

Emily  gets  him  into  a  dilemma, 428 

Emily  directs  Livingsworth  to  God, 429 

Emily  shoots  Moloch  —  rescues  Mariana,  ....  430 

Jew  David  is  taken  prisoner, 431 

Dr.  Willis  takes  charge  of  the  wounded, 433 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Emily  has  a  trial  for  her  freedom, 435 

Emily  meets  her  brother,  Edward  Le  Clare,       ....  436 

Confession  of  "Wm.  Le  Rux,  senior, 438 

Mr.  Brinsmade  introduced, 440 

The  plea  for  the  defence, 444 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  —  a  forger  caught,  ....  445 

The  plea  for  the  plaintiff, 447 

Emily  given  over  to  slavery  —  Edward  imprisoned,    .        .        .  450 


C0NTENT3.  XIII 

CHAPTER  XLIII.  PAGE 

Emily  and  Edward's  trial  for  freedom, 452 

Dr.  Willis'  testimony, 453 

Dr.  Willis  meets  with  Edward  Le  Clare,         ....      456 

Dr.  Willis  produces  the  bracelets, 457 

A  plea  for  the  plaintiffs, 458 

A  plea  for  human  bondage, 460 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Union  of  the  friends  at  Mrs.  Le  Rux's,  ....      463 

Conversation  about  purchasing  freedom, 464 

Mr.  Brinsmade's  remarks  on  slavery, 466 

Fanny  makes  her  escape, 467 

Mrs.  Le  Rux's  remarks  on  Emily's  being  a  slave,    .         .         .       468 
Mr.  Gregory's  views  of  abolition  infidelity,  ....  470 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

Dr.  Freeman  tells  Ella  all  of  Edward's  trials,         .         .         .  474 

Ella  is  strengthened  by  Edward's  poetic  extract,         .        .  .  476 

Ella  is  revived  by  good  news  from  Edward,     ....  478 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Dr.  Willis  learns  something  of  his  Florence,      ....  482 

Mr.  Le  Roy  goes  North  with  Edward, 483 

Marquis  Lafayette's  remark, 484 

CHAPTER  XLVIL 

Edward  and  Ella  meet  at  Niagara  Falls,        ....      486 

More  in  relation  to  Ella, 486 

Mr.  Le  Roy  wishes  all  to  go  to  France,  ....      487 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Jew  David  has  his  trial  —  Jameson  sworn,  ....  490 

Nehemiah's  testimony  and  discovery, 491 

Jew  David's  conviction  —  his  revenge, 492 

CHAPTER  XLXIX. 

Emily's  suit  for  the  property  of  Julia, 493 

Devony  perjures  himself — is  haunted, 495 

Devony  commits  suicide, 496 

2 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  L. 

Emily's  remarks  to  her  aunt,     . 
Frank's  visit  to  the  plantation, 
The  case  of  Flora  and  her  child, 
Mrs.  Le  Rux  has  an  offer  of  marriage,  . 
The  wedding  takes  place, 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Meeting  of  the  friends  at  the  North, 
George  Brownson's  mother  dead  —  he  gone, 
Emily  makes  Ella's  wedding-cake, 
Emily  receives  her  mother's  jewels,    . 


CHAPTER  LIL 

Edward  Le  Rux  marries  Ella  Erskine, 
The  Underground  Railroad  brings  Flora, 
Mr.  Le  Roy  makes  his  will  known, 
A  dedication  to  freedom, 


CHAPTER  LHI 

Fanny  taken  back  to  slavery  from  Ohio, 

Fanny's  death  on  Red  River,     . 

Dr.  "Willis'  power  over  Livingsworth, 

Jew  David's  dying  confession,     . 

Dr.  Willis  buys  Mr.  Brownson's  place,   . 

Mariana's  energy  recovered, 


CHAPTER  LIV 

The  death  of  Mr.  Le  Roy,     . 

Frank  reveals  his  love  for  Julia  De  Wolfe, 

Edith's  letter  to  her  aunt, 

CHAPTER  LV. 

Mrs.  Livingsworth  and  children  recognized, 
Dr.  Willis  attends  on  Mrs.  Livingsworth, 
Johnson  goes  off  angry  with  Minda, 
Frank  Le  Rux  weds  Minda  Livingsworth, 
Mrs.  Livingsworth  dies.  —  The  friends  part, 


THE    CURSE    ENTAILED 


CHAPTER    I. 

MRS.    LE    CLARE    AND    EDWARD. MOTHER   AND    SON. 

Of  his  father,  Edward  Le  Clare  knew  but  little. 
From  his  earliest  remembrance  he  had  resided  in  one 
of  the  "Western  States.  He  had  a  faint  recollection 
of  a  man  coming  to  the  house,  taking  him  upon  his 
knee,  and,  in  a  caressing  manner,  calling  him  his  little 
son.  He  also  recollected  that  there  was  one  who 
shared  with  him  the  caresses  of  his  mother.  His 
mother  had  informed  him  that  it  was  his  father  who 
visited  them,  and  also,  that  Edith  was  his  sister,  older 
by  three  years  than  himself.  He  remembered  seeing 
her  no  more  after  the  visit  of  his  father.  As  he  grew 
older,  and  questioned  his  mother,  she  had  informed 
him  that,  at  that  time,  it  had  been  the  will  of  Mr.  Le 
Clare  that  they  should  remain  at  their  present  resi- 
dence, while  Edith  should  go  with  him,  until  his  busi- 
ness permitted  him  to  join  them;  that  he  afterwards 
informed  her  by  letter,  that  he  found  it  necessary  for 
him  to  visit  France ;  that  he  thought  it  best  to  leave 
Edith  in  the  care  of  a  friend,  until  his  return  to  take 
up  his  residence  with  his  family. 

l  (l) 


2  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

This  for  a  while  satisfied  Edward;  but,  when  he  ar- 
rived at  the  age  of  twelve  years,  and  still  questioned 
her  about  his  father  and  Edith,  it  had  caused  her  to 
weep,  and  she  had  replied :  "  That  vessels  were  some- 
times lost  at  sea;  that  she  had  heard  nothing  from  Mr. 
Le  Clare  since  his  sailing  for  France ;  and  as  she  did 
not  know  in  what  vessel  he  had  sailed,  she  might  per- 
haps never  know  his  fate." 

Neither  had  she  been  informed  where  he  had  left 
Edith.  "  All,"  she  would  say,  "  seems  lost  to  us,  my 
son :  let  us,  Edward,  kneel  before  God,  and  ask  him  to 
protect  the  widow  and  the  orphan."  At  such  times,  she 
would  pour  out  her  soul  in  such  fervent  supplications, 
that  it  fell  like  inspiration  upon  the  young  heart  of 
Edward.  She  was  known  only  as  the  Widow  Le  Clare, 
and  as  a  widow  she  prayed. 

And  yet,  whence  came  the  pecuniary  aid  which  she 
received  ?  She  had  a  small  cottage-house  with  some 
ten  acres  attached,  but  this  Mr.  Le  Clare  had  failed  to 
secure  to  her  by  deed.  There  was  also  an  annual  re- 
mittance from  a  firm  in  Louisiana;  but  yet  with  that 
firm  she  held  no  correspondence. 

All  was  dark  to  Mrs.  Le  Clare.  But  still  more 
agonized  was  she,  when  she  perceived  that  Edward's 
perceptive  mind  was  already  devising  ways  and  means 
to  arrive  at  the  fate  of  his  lost  father  and  s!ster.  "  I 
have,"  he  would  say,  "  but  to  write  to  the  firm  to  learn 
my  father's  fate."  "  No,  my  son,"  she  would  say,  "  that 
would  not  be  best."  At  times  he  would  become  impa- 
tient at  the  refusal;  but,  as  he  beheld  the  pale  and 
agonized  face  of  his  mother,  he  would  throw  himself 
upon  her  bosom  and  exclaim,  "  O  mother!  when  I 
am  older  I  will  travel;   I  will  not  leave  you  alone,  you 


MOTHER   AND   SOX.  3 

will  go  with  me ;  we  will  at  last  find  our  dear  Edith." 
"  If  God  wills  it,"  was  always  the  reply  of  Mrs.  Le 
Clare.  And  well  was  it  for  her  that  she  could  trust  in 
God.  She  was  at  this  time  some  thirty-five  years  of 
age.  Edward  one  day  said,  "  Did  sister  Edith  look 
like  you,  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  my  son,  she  looked  like  your  father." 
"  Well,  then,  I  am  afraid  she  is  not  handsome ;  I  do 
not  believe  my  father  could  have  been  as  handsome  as 
you  are.  I  am  always  so  proud  of  you  when  we  walk 
to  church  —  you  look  so  sweet  and  appear  so  genteel. 
Richard  Wise  says,  he  cannot  help  loving  you,  you 
always  smile  so  sweetly  on  him.  But  why,  mother,  do 
you  always  wear  that  plain  dress  when  you  have  so 
many  nice  ones  ?  And  why  do  you  not  wear  those 
jewels  ?  "  "  It  is  not  proper,  my  son,  to  wear  those  to 
the  house  of  God.  I  never  wore  them  in  America.  I 
never  shall  wear  them  more."  She  started  as  the  last 
word  escaped  her,  cast  a  look  at  Edward,  and  with 
some  tremulousness  said :  "  I  had  designed  them  for 
Edith ;  but  if  they  never  grace  her  person,  and  fortune 
does  not  otherwise  direct,  they  must  adorn  your  bride." 
Edward  sprang  towards  her,  as  he  observed  the  pal- 
lor of  her  face,  and  caught  her  falling  from  her  chair. 
On  recovering,  Mrs.  Le  Clare  retired  to  her  room,  tell- 
ing Edward  that  she  would  seek  rest.  But,  although 
this  was  her  design,  the  tumult  in  her  breast  forbade  it. 
Throwing  herself  upon  a  sofa,  she  gave  way  to  an 
agony  of  tears.  "Alas!  Alas!"  she  sobbed,  "my 
poor  boy!  How  unconscious  you  are  of  the  agony 
which  I  endure,  or  the  cause  of  my  grief.  Those  jew- 
els will  yet  demand  an  explanation ;  would  that  you  • 
had  never  seen  them.    Father  in  heaven,  lead  thou  the 


4  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

way ;  let  me  not  run  too  fast,  nor  withold  from  my  son 
what  he  should  know.  Oh  !  how  weak  is  man  in  his 
own  strength.     O  God,  be  thou  my  strength." 

Edward  was  distressed.  Surely  there  was  some 
mystery,  or  perhaps  it  might  be  grief  at  the  thought 
of  his  father;  at  least,  it  distressed  his  mother,  and 
he  would  be  very  careful,  in  future,  how  he  made 
remarks. 

When  Mrs.  Le  Clare  again  made  her  appearance, 
there  was  a  smile  upon  her  face.  She  had  communed 
with  God.  After  a  few  turns  in  the  garden,  which  was 
arranged  with  great  care  and  taste,  she  prepared  their 
evening  meal,  as  she  always  did,  with  her  own  hands, 
and  Edward  felt  happy.  Mrs.  Le  Clare's  manners 
were  such  as  are  acquired  by  mixing  in  the  society  of 
the  highly  cultivated.  At  this  time  she  mingled  but 
little  in  any  society,  although  her  company  was  sought 
and  appreciated ;  she  had  a  taste  for  reading,  and  her 
works  were  well  selected. 

Edward  had  always  been  the  star  in  their  school ; 
and  Mr.  Gleason,  the  teacher  of  the  high  school,  was 
often  heard  to  say,  that,  "  if  Mrs.  Le  Clare's  means 
wore  not  too  limited,  and  Edward  could  receive  an 
education  fitting,  he  bid  fair  to  rise  high  as  a  man  and 
scholar." 

So  thought  Edward  himself;  in  fact,  there  was  a 
determination  upon  the  subject  in  his  own  mind.  Mrs. 
Le  Clare  saw  it,  and  pride  would  sometimes  steal  into 
her  heart,  when  she  thought  of  what  her  Edward  might 
become ;  and  yet,  with  a  shade  of  melancholy  upon  her 
face,  she  would  tell  him,  that  to  be  wise  was  to  be 
good.      Edward  had  become  a  good   scholar  of   his 


MOTHER   AND   SON.  5 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  thinking  of  some  active  employ- 
ment for  him,  when  she  unexpectedly  received  the  fol- 
lowing communication : 

"New  Orleaxs,    *    *    * 

"  Dear  Madam,  —  It  was  the  will  of  Mr.  Le  Clare 
that,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  his  son  Edward  should 
receive,  through  me,  means  to  prosecute  his  studies  in 
some  college  at  the  North.  You  will  here  find  en- 
closed sufficient  to  bear  his  expenses  the  present  year, 
and  at  the  expiration  of  the  year,  another  remittance 
will  be  forwarded." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  knew  not  whether  to  weep  or  rejoice. 
Surely,  thought  she,  there  might  have  been  one  word 
of  Le  Clare  and  Edith.  'Tis  cruel!  And  yet  perhaps 
they  do  not  live.  O  God !  strengthen  me ;  I  know  not 
how  bitter  is  the  cup  I  may  have  to  drink.  Such  were 
her  reflections,  when  Edward  entered.  Scarcely  know- 
ing what  she  did,  she  handed  him  the  letter.  As  Edward 
read,  his  face  presented  a  mixture  of  wonder  and  joy. 
"  O  mother ! "  he  said,  as  he  finished ;  but  turning  to 
look  upon  her,  he  beheld  her  not  only  pale  as  death, 
but  motionless  as  a  statue.  "  O  my  God ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  why  is  this  ?  "  Mrs.  Le  Clare  had  been  par- 
tially reclining  upon  a  sofa,  and  had  fallen  back. 
"  Mother !  mother ! "  he  said,  "  speak  to  me." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  had  fainted.  He  threw  water  in  her 
face,  and  she  soon  revived ;  but  there  was  a  languor 
and  weakness  followed,  and  for  several  days  Edward 
saw  her  much  prostrated.  Finding  that  she  could  not 
recover  herself,  she  consented  that  he  might  call  a 
physician.  Dr.  Freeman  was  called,  and  found  her 
suffering  much  from  nervous  prostration,  and  informed 
1* 


6  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

Edward  that  "he  feared  she  had  some  deep-seated 
disease.  It  may  be,"  said  he,  "  disease  of  the  heart ;  at 
all  events,  her  mind  must  be  kept  calm."  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  had  always  objected  to  having  a  domestic  in  the 
family,  but  had  relied  upon  Mrs.  Wise,  the  mother  of 
Richard,  a  neighbor  and  playmate  of  Edward. 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  had  shown  Mrs.  Wise  many  kind- 
nesses, and  she  now  spent  several  hours  with  her  kind 
friend,  as  upon  her  she  called  each  day.  Edward  tried 
to  be  cheerful,  but  there  was  a  weight  at  his  heart.  Is 
it  possible,  thought  he,  that  I  am  about  to  lose  my  dear 
mother?  The  thought  would  almost  overwhelmn 
him. 

He  read  often  to  her  from  the  Bible.  "  Turn  to  the 
Psalms,  my  son,"  she  would  say.  "  Yes ;  the  Lord  is 
my  strength;  I  will  fear  no  evil.  May  he  be  thy 
strength,  Edward,  forever  and  ever."  Edward  had  fore- 
borne  to  make  any  remarks  in  regard  to  the  letter,  and 
so  silent  had  his  mother  been  upon  the  subject,  that  he 
sometimes  thought  that  it  was  not  remembered  by 
her. 

Six  weeks  after  the  receipt  of  the  letter,  however, 
upon  entering  the  house,  after  a  walk  in  the  yard,  lean- 
ing upon  Edward's  arm,  she  said  with  much  apparent 
cheerfulness,  "  I  wish  to  visit  our  good  clergyman  this 
afternoon.  I  would  like  to  consult  him  in  regard  to 
your  studies.  I  am  not  myself  sufficiently  informed 
upon  the  subject.  We  will  ride  over  and  ask  his  ad- 
vice ;  you  will,  if  you  please,  hand  me  the  letter." 

Edward's  hand  trembled  as  he  complied  with  her 
request ;  but  she  remained  calm. 

Mother  and  son  passed  a  pleasant  afternoon.  Their 
minister,   Mr.  Brownson,   recommended  his  going  to 


MOTHER   AND    SON.  7 

college.  Edward  expressed  regret  at  leaving  his 
mother.  Mr.  Brownson  said,  that  it  would  doubtless 
be  a  sore  trial  to  her,  yet  he  thought  she  could  be  happy 
in  the  prospect  of  her  son  becoming  useful  in  after  life. 
And  to  Edward,  he  said,  "  We  will  do  all  in  our  power, 
to  have  your  mother's  time  pass  pleasantly  in  your 
absence." 

It  was  arranged  that  Edward  should  leave  in  the 
autumn.  At  the  request  of  Edward,  it  was  also 
arranged  that  Mrs.  Wise  and  her  son  Richard  should 
reside  with  his'mother.  Richard  could  supply  Edward's 
place  in  out-of-door  affairs.  Mrs.  Wise  was  dependent 
upon  her  own  and  Richard's  labor,  and  Mrs.  Le  Clare 
could  offer  them  a  remuneration,  which  was  satisfac- 
tory to  them  both. 

Many  and  severe  were  the  struggles  in  that  mother's 
heart,  but  Edward  knew  it  not.  He  knew  not  that 
there  was  a  canker  in  the  heart  of  her  upon  whom  he 
loved  to  lean.  Many  were  the  lessons  which  he  received 
from  that  dear  mother.  Often  and  long  did  she  exhort 
him  to  walk  in  wisdom's  ways.  "  Seek  the  Lord,  my 
son ;  he  alone  can  be  thy  support  in  the  day  of  trial." 
Edward  felt  an  increasing  desire  to  ask  and  •  know 
more  of  his  father ;  but  his  lips  were  sealed ;  he  dared 
not  venture  upon  the  subject.  Of  all  things,  he  wished 
most  to  know  why  he  could  not  know. 

Sitting  with  his  mother  one  evening,  about  a  week 
before  his  departure,  gazing  into  her  face,  he  was  led  to 
remark  more  particularly  the  gloom  and  paleness  of  her 
countenance.  Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  busily  engaged  in 
laying  the  plaits  in  the  bosom  of  a  linen  for  Edward, 
and  did  not  notice  his  fixed  and  anxious  look. 


8  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Mother,"  he  at  length  said,  "  you  are  ill,  I  know  you 
are  very  ill ;  I  must  not,  I  will  not,  leave  you." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  started  at  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
accompanied  with  such  a  sudden  burst  of  feeling. 
Looking  up,  and  observing  how  fixedly  his  gaze  was 
riveted  upon  her,  she  was  agitated,  but  instantly  re- 
covering herself,  said  mildly,  and  with  a  smile : 

"  All  but  the  will  not,  my  son ;  you  must  learn  to  use 
those  words  only  when  they  are  proper." 

"  Well,  dear  mother,"  said  Edward,  "  when  are  they 
proper  ?  " 

"  After  a  candid  and  prayerful  investigation,  when 
you  come  to  the  solemn  conclusion  that  a  thing  is 
wrong,  then  say  you  will  not  do  it;  and  you  will 
seldom  have  reason  to  repent  your  decision.  But,  in 
the  present  case,  I  think  you  have  spoken  too  hastily." 

Edward  arose  and  paced  the  room.  His  agitation 
was  too  great  to  be  unobserved  by  his  mother ;  her 
anxiety  on  his  account  produced  an  excitement  which 
enabled  her  to  speak  in  a  clear  firm  voice. 

"  Edward,  my  son,  I  shall  not  ask  you  whence  that 
sigh.  I  have  long  read  your  heart ;  yes,  even  better  I 
fear  than  I  have  my  own.     Sit  down  by  me. 

Edward  obeyed.  Mrs.  Le  Clare  took  his  hand  and 
said : 

"  It  is  only  when  I  look  upon  you,  and  read  manhood 
in  your  face,  that  I  am  enabled  to  realize  that  you  have 
arrived  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  Perhaps  there  is  a 
selfishness  in  it,  but  I  seem  to  hold  you  back  to  boy- 
hood's days.  I  shall  not  try  to  disguise  from  you  the 
fact,  that  I  find  myself  weaker  in  body  than  formerly." 

Edward  raised  his  head  ;  their  eyes  met.     All  of  his 


MOTHER   AND   SOX.  9 

desire  was  in  that  look.  She  bent  her  eyes  steadily 
upon  him,  and  said : 

"  It  is  no  more  than  I  expected." 

She  arose  and  went  to  the  window.  At  length,  seating 
herself,  she  said : 

"  Edward !  Heaven  be  my  witness,  that  there  is 
nothing  of  selfishness  in  my  witholding  from  you  what 
you  desire,  and  doubtless  think  is  your  right,  to  know ; 
that  is,  more  of  your  father's  and  of  your  mother's 
early  life  —  yes,  more  of  yourself.  Heaven  again  be 
my  witness,  that  there  is  no  act  of  my  life  which  I 
dare  not  meet  in  time  or  in  eternity.  Let  this,  my  dear 
son,  comfort  you.  I  know  of  no  guilt  attached  to  your 
father.  But,  if  he  be  yet  in  the  land  of  the  living,  and 
not  incarcerated  within  the  walls  of  a  prison,  as  an 
exile,  where  his  voice  cannot  be  heard,  then,  my  son,  is 
he  awfully  guilty ;  for  then  has  he  betrayed  and  deserted 
us." 

Her  voice  faltered ;  her  strength  seemed  to  fail.  Ed- 
ward sprang  from  his  seat  in  alarm. 

"  No,  my  son !  I  shall  have  strength.  Fear  not." 
After  a  few  minutes,  she  continued :  "  At  the  age  of 
seventeen,  I  went  with  your  father  to  France.  Edith 
was  born  on  the  passage  thither.  There  we  mixed  in 
the  society  which  your  father's  station  demanded.  I 
had  every  reason  to  believe  that  your  father  not  only 
loved,  but  was  proud  of  me.  He  did  everything  in  his 
power  to  make  me  happy.  Private  teachers  were  em- 
ployed to  teach  me  music,  drawing,  and  dancing ;  I  also 
learned  the  French  language,  and  spoke  it  fluently." 

Edward  was  surprised ;  for  he  had  never  known  that 
his  mother  understood  French. 

"  There  is,"  continued  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  "much  dissipa- 


1U  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

tion  among  the  higher  circles  in  France;  but  I  was 
not  aware  that  your  father  indulged  in  it.  I  felt  that 
he  lavished  too  much  money  upon  my  person ;  but  I 
was  not  aware  that  he  expended  beyond  his  means. 
'  There  is  but  one  star  in  Paris,'  he  would  say,  'which 
rises  higher  and  shines  brighter  than  you,  and  I  am 
determined  that  you  shall  outshine  her  yet.'  I  knew 
not  why  this  made  me  feel  sad,  but  so  it  was.  For 
some  two  months  before  your  birth,  I  was  a  recluse. 
Your  father  continued  his  round  of  pleasure  as  usual. 
A  severe  sickness  followed  my  confinement.  Your 
father  was  attentive  to  me,  and  almost  gave  up  society 
for  weeks. 

"  I  at  length  recovered,  but  had  lost,  as  your  father 
called  it,  much  of  my  bloom  and  elasticity.  It  was 
irksome  for  me  to  think  of  mixing  in  society  again,  and 
your  father  went  without  me,  although  I  sometimes 
attended  him.  '  That  star  has  only  grown  brighter  in 
your  absence,'  he  would  say. 

'•  Your  sister  Edith  was  a  lovely  child.  Your  father 
called  her  an  angel,  a  cherub,  his  darling,  the  pride 
of  his  life,  in  short,  everthing  by  turns  which  could 
express  loveliness.  O  Edward!  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  I  loved  her.  Often  have  I  heard  your  father 
say  that  from  her  he  could  never  be  separated.  Thus 
we  lived,  until  you  were  two  years  old,  when  I  some- 
times thought  that  there  was  less  of  cheerfulness  in 
your  father's  manners,  although  not  less  of  love. 

"  One  night,  after  returning  from  the  theatre,  whither 
I  had  not  accompanied  him,  he  was  evidently  much  de- 
ed ;  and  the  next  morning  he  informed  me  that  we 
must  sail  for  America  within  one  week.     This  was  said 
without  any  explanation  whatever. 


MOTHEE  AND  SON.  11 

"  We  sailed  on  board  the  Navarre,  and  had  a  pleasant 
passage.  Your  father  seemed  in  a  state  of  abstraction ; 
and  I  feared  he  was  unhappy,  or  that  some  great  mis- 
fortune had,  or  was  about  to  fall  upon  us. 

"  I  suffered  much  from  sea-sickness,  and  had  there 
been  less  of  kindness  on  his  part,  my  forebodings  would 
have  broken  my  heart ;  but  that  was  not  the  case.  He 
administered  to  me  every  comfort,  in  his  power ;  yet 
maintained  a  perfect  silence  in  regard  to  his  depression 
of  mind  or  his  future  course.  He  would  walk  the 
deck  for  hours  with  Edith  by  the  hand  or  in  his  arms, 
then  seat  himself,  take  her  upon  his  knee,  and  caress 
her.  He  one  day  entered  my  cabin,  and  with  his  own 
hands  adjusted  my  dress,  and  hurrying  on  my  bonnet, 
said,  with  a  smile  which  made  my  heart  leap  with  joy, 
1  Come,  dearest,  we  are  entering  a  Northern  port  in 
America.'  Hastening  me  upon  deck,  he  seated  himself 
by  my  side,  and  taking  Edith  upon  his  knee,  pointed  out 
to  me  the  beauties  of  the  place.  We  were  conveyed 
to  a  hotel,  and  provided  with  every  comfort. 

"  The  next  -morning,  he  informed  me  that  he  had 
business  in  the  country.  He  left,  and  was  absent  some 
weeks.  A  strange  anxiety  took  possession  of  my  mind. 
I  could  not  throw  it  off.  On  his  ^turn,  he  informed 
me,  without  reserve,  'that  he  had,  while  in  France, 
lived  in  such  a  manner  as  to  outstrip  his  income ;  that  it 
was  necessary  for  him  to  retrench  his  expenses ;  that  he 
had  therefore  made  purchase  of  a  small  cottage-house, 
at  which  place  he  thought  we  could  be  happy.  Surely, 
thought  I,  is  this  all  ?  We  will  indeed  be  happy.  After 
our  removal  to  our  cottage,  he  spent  about  three  weeks 
in  ordering  and  arranging  our  things ;  and  I  thought  he 
seemed  happy,  and  I  was  truly  so. 


12  THE  CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  One  evening,  after  returning  from  the  village,  he 
told  me  that  he  had  received  a  letter,  and  that  it  would 
be  necessary  for  him  to  leave  me  on  the  morrow  for 
the  South,  adding,  '  I  want  you  to  make  yourself  happy 
in  my  absence.' 

"  He  was  much  agitated.  '  Oh ! '  said  I,  as  I  threw 
my  arms  around  his  neck,  while  the  tears  coursed  down 
my  cheeks,  '  surely  you  will  not  leave  us  long  ? '  '  Cer- 
tainly not,'  said  he,  '  my  dear ;  you  must  become  more 
of  a  stoic,  Emily.  We  are  not  in  France  now,  and 
my  business  must  be  attended  to.'  In  spite  of  all  my 
efforts  to  rally,  I  still  wept ;  and  Edith,  seeing  my  dis- 
tress, added  her  tears  to  mine.  This  was  more  than  he 
could  bear.  '  See,'  said  he,  '  Emily,  you  pain  the 
child ;  be  calm,  I  beseech  you.'  Then,  placing  me  upon 
the  sofa,  he  took  Edith  in  his  arms  ;  but  he  could  not 
control  his  own  feelings ;  he  also  wept.  He  rushed  into 
the  garden ;  but,  ere  he  passed  the  outer  door,  I  heard 
him  say  what  I  had  so  often  heard  before,  '  I  will 
never  be  separated  from  Edith.'  But,  for  the  first  time, 
the  remark  sent  a  chill  to  my  heart,  and  it  still  rings  in 
my  ears. 

"  The  next  day  he  left.  '  My  stay,'  said  he,  'will  be 
so  short,  and  my  j^me  so  entirely  devoted  to  business, 
that  it  will  not  be  convenient  or  necessary  for  me  to 
write.'  At  the  end  of  six  weeks,  however,  I  received  a 
letter,  informing  me  that  his  stay  would  necessarily  be 
protracted.  In  the  letter  was  enclosed  money  sufficient 
for  our  comforts  in  the  mean  time.  The  letter  was 
couched  in  the  most  affectionate  terms,  and  spoke  of 
his  love  for  me  and  the  children.  In  spite  of  all  my 
efforts,  I  became  gloomy. 

"  At  this  time,  Edward,  I  had  not  learned  to  cast  my 


MOTHER   AND   SON.  13 

cares  upon  the  Lord.  It  was  by  a  sermon  preached  by 
Mr.  Brownson  that  I  was  awakened  to  the  subject, 
and  was  enabled  to  cast  my  cares  upon  the  Lord ;  and, 
from  that  hour  to  this,  religion  has  been  my  only  solace. 
I  longed  to  write  to  your  father,  but  he  had  not  given 
me  his  address.  He  returned,  however.  You  was  then 
a  little  more  than  three  years  old.  You  have  a  faint 
recollection  of  his  visit.  He  was  still  the  same  kind, 
affectionate  father  and  husband.  He  did  much  to  ren- 
der our  home  more  comfortable.  After  a  stay  of  three 
weeks,  he  again  left.  The  day  before  leaving,  he  in- 
formed me  of  his  intention  to  take  Edith  with  him. 
'  Emily,'  said  he,  <  you  know  my  resolution  not  to  be 
separated  from  Edith.  My  business  will  keep  me  some 
time  longer  at  the  South.  My  sister  desires  to  take 
charge  of  her  in  the  mean  time,  and  I  can  see  her  every 
day.  Think  how  lonely  I  must  be,  separated  from  you 
all ;  you  have  Edward,  and  selfishness  is  not  a  part  of 
your  nature.  I  do  not  expect  to  hear  a  single  word  of 
objection.'  Nor  did  he,  although  I  had  many  forebod- 
ings of  evil ;  and  it  nearly  broke  my  heart,  to  part  with 
my  lovely  Edith." 

"  O  mother ! "  said  Edward,  "  do  you  not  know  the 
address  of  that  sister?     Surely  we  can  yet  learn  all" 

.     A  deep  groan  escaped  from  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  as 

she  said  "  O  God ! "  and  fell  back  upon  the  sofa. 

A  groan,  and  "  My  God!"  cried  Edward,  as  he  sprang 
in  alarm  to  her  side.  Mrs.  Le  Clare  had  only  swooned, 
and  was  soon  again  restored  to  consciousness.  After 
taking  some  restoratives,  which  had  been  left  by  Dr. 
Freeman,  she  again  spoke. 

"  Edward,  I  have  but  little  more  to  say ;  but  that,  to 
you,  will,  I  fear,  be  the  most  painful  of  all." 

2 


14  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  "Wait,  dear  mother,"  said  Edward,*"  until  you  have 
more  strength.  Do  not  speak  more  now ;  you  are  cer- 
tainly too  feeble." 

"  God  will  give  me  strength,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Clare. 

Then  fixing  her  eyes  steadily,  but  calmly  upon  him, 
she  said :  "  Edward  Le  Clare,  unless  God  in  his  mercy, 
and  in  his  own  wise  purpose,  interfere,  you  know  all 
now  that  you  or  I  can  ever  know  of  your  father  or 
Edith.  For  the  sake  of  her  who  bore  you,  whom  I 
know  you  love  better  than  you  do  yourself,  as  well  as 
for  your  own  happiness,  dismiss  the  subject  from  your 
mind.     Live  to  the  glory  of  God." 

Again  she  paused,  and  her  soul  rose  in  fervent  sup- 
plication and  prayer.  She  prayed  long  and  earnestly 
for  Edward.  That  prayer  was  heard  and  answered. 
Before  rising  from  his  knees,  Edward  Le  Clare  prayed 
—  prayed  aloud — prayed  as  a  Christian  prays  —  prayed 
in  humbleness  of  spirit  —  and  from  his  inmost  soul  — 
"  Father  in  heaven,  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done." 

"  You  will  keep  me  advised  of  your  health  ?  "  were 
the  last  words  of  Edward  to  his  mother,  at  parting  with 
her  to  enter  on  his  college  course. 

"  Yes,  my  son.  Pray  much,  pray  earnestly,  and  in 
faith,  and  God  will  bless  you,"  were  the  last  words  of 
Mrs.  Le  Clare,  as  she  imprinted  a  warm  kiss  upon 
Edward's  lips. 


CHAPTER    II. 

EDWARD     LE    CLARE    IN     COLLEGE. 

At  college,  Edward  Le  Clare  found  himself  in  a 
new  atmosphere.  One  object  alone  engrossed  his  mind, 
aside  from  the  great  object  of  life,  a  preparation  for  an 
eternal  existence,  and  that  was  study.  "  I  must  not 
disappoint  the  expectation  of  my  mother.  I  must 
make  myself  useful,  in  order  to  be  happy  in  this  world 
or  in  the  world  to  come ; "  was  from  the  first  his  motto. 

Among  the  subjects  discussed  at  the  institution,  was 
that  of  American  slavery.  This  more  particularly  in- 
terested Edward,  from  the  fact  that,  in  his  boyhood,  he 
had  heard  his  mother  speak  of  it  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  awaken  all  his  sensitiveness.  There  were  a  few  who 
dared  to  speak  out  boldly ;  but  they  were  immediately 
branded  as  fanatics  and  disturbers  of  the  peace.  Ed- 
ward had  never  given  the  subject  an  examination.  In 
spite  of  the  denunciation  of  the  faculty,  the  subject  of 
slavery  became  the  topic  of  the  day  ;  documents  were 
obtained,  and  facts  made  known  in  regard  to  it  hereto- 
fore not  understood. 

For  a  while,  Edward  kept  aloof,  except  to  make  it  a 
subject  of  prayer ;  but,  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  he 
found  his  whole  soul  aroused. 

He  examined,  and  soon  became  one  of  the  strong- 
est of  the  party  termed  abolitionists.  There  were 
Southerners  in  the  institution,  and  Southern  blood  was 

(16) 


16  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

up.  Insult  and  taunt  were  their  weapons ;  but  Ed- 
ward feared  them  not.  It  needed  but  his  calm,  dignified 
look,  and  they  slunk  away.  Firm  as  a  rock  he  stood, 
still  examining,  and  still  obtaining  new  light. 

In  a  letter  to  his  mother,  he  writes : 

"  The  wrongs  of  an  enslaved  race  hang  heavily  upon 
me.  You  have  often  spoken  to  me  upon  the  subject.  * 
I  had  learned  to  view  it  as  a  wrong,  or  rather,  as  an 
evil ;  but  I  did  not  know  that  it  had  so  entwined  itself 
around  the  heart  of  the  nation,  and,  like  a  serpent,  was 
poisoning  its  life's  blood.  You,  my  dear  mother,  do 
not  know  the  extent  of  the  wrong.  But  I  now  believe, 
what  you  have  so  often  told  me,  that  the  country  is 
about  to  wipe  out  this  foul  stain." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  wrote  often  and  long  to  Edward,  and 
he  was  punctual  in  answering.  He  endeavored  to  cast 
off  all  unpleasant  thoughts  concerning  his  father ;  but 
the  remark  of  his  mother,  "  Unless  God  in  his  mercy 
interfere,"  had  sunk  deep  into  his  heart.  He  had 
great  faith  in  prayer,  and  he  carried  his  burden  to  the 
Throne  of  Grace.  His  prayer  was,  "  Father  in  Heaven, 
if  it  be  thy  will,  let  me  know  more  of  my  father  and 
sister." 

At  the  expiration  of  one  year,  Edward  visited  home. 
He  had  now  spent  one  year  in  the  preparatory  class; 
but,  before  leaving,  he  entered  upon  his  regular  college 
course.  His  mother  beheld  him  much  improved,  and 
many  were  the  remarks  in  the  neighborhood  in  regard 
to  his  gentlemanly  appearance. 

"  I  have  always  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Wise,  "  that 
Edward  would  be  a  good  man,  and  a  comfort  to  you ; 
but  I  did  not  expect  to  see  him  come  home  with  so 
much  of  the  gentleman  in  his  manners." 


1 


EDWARD    IN   COLLEGE.  17 

"  I  have  always  hoped,"  replied  Mrs.  Le  Clare, "  that 
he  would  be  good,  and  I  bless  the  Lord  that,  thus  far,  I 
am  not  disappointed." 

Edward  called  upon  Mr.  Brownson,  expressing  him- 
self freely  against  slavery,  and  expected  that  his  minister 
would  reciprocate  his  feelings  against  so  great  a  sin ; 
but  he  was  met  only  with  the  cold  remark :  "  You  had 
better  let  that  subject  alone,  Edward;  it  is  entirely  a 
Southern  question.  The  Northern  abolitionists  are 
doing  the  slaves  a  great  injury."  Edward,  astonished 
at  his  ignorance,  or  wickedness,  forbore  further  remarks. 

His  mother  seemed  still  of  the  opinion,  that  slavery 
would  soon  be  done  away.  "  At  least,  my  son,"  she 
would  say,  "  do  not  give  yourself  uneasiness  upon  the 
the  subject,  as  that  can  do  no  good."  He  found  -that 
she  was  still  exceedingly  sensitive  upon  the  subject  of 
slavery,  and  he  resolved  to  speak  of  it  to  her  no  more. 
Six  weeks  seemed  very  short  to  Mrs.  Le  Clare  and  her 
son;  but  it  had  passed,  and  Edward  must  return  to 
college. 

"  You  are  certainly  in  better  health,  mother,  than 
when  I  left  you,  one  year  ago,"  said  Edward,  the 
evening  before  his  departure.  "  Your  countenance  is 
better,  and  you  seem  more  cheerful." 

"  I  am  certainly  in  better  health,"  replied  his  mother, 
"  and  you  are  the  cause  of  it,  my  son.  You  have  more 
than  fulfilled  my  expectations ;  you  are  my  all  in  this 
world.  To  see  you  good,  wise,  happy,  and  useful,  has 
been,  still  is,  and,  I  trust,  ever  will  be,  my  most  earnest 
prayer." 

Again  they  knelt  at  the  Throne  of  Grace.  Edward 
prayed  for  the  slave.  Mrs.  Le  Clare  followed;  she  also 
prayed  for  the  slave.  Edward  thought  he  had  never 
2* 


18  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

heard  her  pray  so  earnestly ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  her 
soul  grasped  the  whole  wrong  at  once,  and  lifted  it  up 
before  her  Father  in  heaven.  Surely,  thought  he,  my 
mother  does  understand,  even  better  than  myself,  the 
wrongs  and  sufferings  of  the  poor  slave.  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  and  her  sori  parted  the  next  morning.  They 
were  both  cheerful.  "  Think  how  short  the  last  year 
has  seemed,"  said  Edward. 

"  It  will  ever  be  so,"  replied  his  mother,  "  while  we 
are  in  the  path  of  duty.  Farewell,  my  son ;  Heaven 
protect  you." 


I 


CHAPTER  III. 

SOUTHERN     CHIVALRY EDWARD     PUBLICLY     ASSAULTED. 

Onward,  onward,  went  Edward  Le  Clare  in  the  path 
of  science.  In  his  freshman  year  he  won  laurels,  such 
as  worth  ever  wins  in  the  search  after  knowledge, 
while  the  watchword  is  God  and  humanity. 

True,  Edward  Le  Clare  was  surrounded  with  temp- 
tation ;  but  he  did  not  forget  the  prayer,  "  Keep  me 
from  temptation,  and  deliver  me  from  evil."  He  had 
also  a  praying  mother.  Edward  had  promised  to  send 
his  mother  anti-slavery  documents ;  he  did  so,  but  he 
did  not  know  how  earnestly  she  perused  their  pages. 

From  the  day  of  his  leaving  her,  Mrs.  Le  Clare  spent 
most  of  her  time  in  retirement,  and  Mrs.  Wise  often 
found  her  writing.  "  You  do  not  need  my  interference 
in  the  kitchen,"  she  would  say  to  her ;  "  you  will  sit. 
with  me  when  you  please ;  I  am  always  glad  of  your 
company."  In  fact,  Mrs.  Wise  was  very  companion- 
able. 

Great  was  the  dismay  of  the  college  faculty, 
doctors  of  divinity,  pro-slavery  men,  and  students  in 

C ,   when  it  was  announced  that,  on  the  next 

Wednesday  evening,  Mr.  G ,  would  deliver  an  anti- 
slavery  lecture.  Meetings  were  called.  Excitement 
ran  high.  Houses  must  be  denied.  The  church  was 
in  danger  from  fanatics.  Amalgamation  dreaded. 
Again,  Southern  blood  was  up.     Edward  was  quietly 

19) 


20  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

masticating  his  food  at  the  dinner-table ;  anti-slavery 
and  pro-slavery  men  pursuing  the  same  course  as  him- 
self. 

There  was  much  loud  and  boisterous  talk  by  a  young 
Southerner,  Frank  Le  Rux,  who  sat  next  to  Edward. 
Suddenly,  he  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  seizing  Edward 
by  the  collar,  exclaimed,  "  You  are  a  d d  abo- 
litionist." 

Edward  was  taken  by  surprise.  But,  rising  to  his 
feet,  with  one  powerful  effort  he  freed  himself  from  his 
grasp.  Immediately  his  arm  was  raised  to  strike  him 
down.  "  Strike !  Strike !  Don't  take  that  insult,"  came 
from  some  twenty  of  the  students,  as  they  simultane- 
ously sprang  to  their  feet  But  Edward  did  not  strike. 
He  looked  at  his  foe,  and  said,  in  a  clear,  firm  voice : 

"  He  who  strikes  a  fool  or  a  villain,  puts  himself 
upon  a  level  with  him." 

Then,  from  one  end  of  the  hall  to  the  other,  came 
forth  cheers  for  Ed^vard  Le  Clare ;  and  hiss  after  hiss 
for  Southern  slaveholders  followed. 

Our  Southerner  foamed  and  frothed.  Edward  led 
the  way  from  the  hall,  and,  as  he  neared  the  door,  a  hur- 
ried oath,  and,  "  we  shall  meet  again,"  sounded  in  his 
ears. 

Edward  turned.  "  Where  ?  "  said  he,  "  I  trust  never, 
unless  honor  takes  possession  of  your  soul — until  we 
meet  with  an  assembled  multitude  at  the  judgment." 

And  what  was  done  in  that  institution  with  that 
Southerner  ?  O  nothing ;  but  he  was  permitted  to  go 
on  threatening.  "  "We  must  be  careful,"  said  the  presi- 
dent ;  so  said  all  the  trustees,  and  all  concerned.  "  We 
must  not  offend  the  South ;  she  sends  her  sons  here  to 
be  educated.     We  have  no  business  with  her  peculiar 


SOUTHERN    CHIVALRY.  li  1 

institution.  Agitation  must  stop ; "  and  thus  they  strove. 
But  much  sooner  might  they  have  stayed  the  proud 
Niagara  in  her  onward  course,  than  stopped  the  mighty 
current  of  humanity,  set  in  motion  by  God,  in  the 
hearts  of  men. 

Edward,  in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  says : 
"  My  heart  is  sick.  There  is  no  mockery  in  Jesus 
Christ's  religion ;  but  what  do  I  see  and  hear  ?  Professed 
ministers  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  defending  slavery! 
Would  you  have  believed  it,  dear  mother  ?  "We  are  for- 
bidden to  pray  publicly,  for  the  abolition  of  American 
slavery.  Alas!  what  is  honor?  what  religion? — if,  to 
be  a  statesman,  we  must  bow  down  to  slavery;  or,  if  we 
enter  the  sacred  desk,  we  must  become  like  dumb  dogs, 
in  reference  to  the  abominations  of  earth. 

"  I  long,  dear  mother,  to  pour  out  my  whole  heart  to 
you.  But  I  must  and  will  be  patient.  The  time  rolls 
rapidly  round  for  my  return ;  nothing  has  occurred  to 
retard  me  in  my  studies.  I  am  (it  will  do  to  tell  it  to 
you)  always  at  the  head  of  my  class,  as  we  call  it  in 
C » 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    MOTHER'S    TRIALS. EDWARD    AT    HOME. 

Again  rolled  round  the  autumn,  and  again  Edward 
Le  Clare  stood  before  his  mother,  with  the  bold  manly 
face  of  one  who  had  done  no  wrong ;  more,  had  man- 
fully opposed  it. 

"  God  be  praised,"  said  she,  "  my  Edward ;  he  has 
heard  my  prayer,  and  returned  you  to  me  in  safety. 
But  this  is  not  all ;  you  have  come  back  to  me  uncon- 
taminated  with  vice,  I  read  it  in  your  looks."  Edward 
had  grown  larger,  and  his  bearing  was  still  more  manly. 
As  Mrs.  Le  Clare  gazed  upon  him,  she  said  mentally, 
"  Father  in  heaven,  deliver  me  from  pride.  Let 
thankfulness  fill  my  heart." 

But  how  was  it  with  Mrs.  Le  Clare  ?  Again  Ed- 
ward beheld  her  pale  and  feeble. 

"  I  have  not  felt  well  for  some  weeks,"  was  Mrs. 
Le  Clare's  reply  to  his  inquiry.  "  I  have  been  some- 
what troubled  with  nervousness,  and  have  missed  you 
much ;  but  you  will  soon  see  me  happy,  and  I  hope  well 
again." 

Edward  took  the  earliest  opportunity  to  inquire  of 
Mrs.  Wise;  and  she  informed  him,  "that  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  had  seen  a  notice  of  the  assault  upon  him,  by  a 
Southerner,  in  the  papers ;  and  that,  at  the  time,  it  had 
affected  her  very  much :  that  she  came  near  fainting." 
Edward  saw  the  whole  truth  at  once.  He  was  not  aware 

(22) 


THE  mother's  trials.  23 

before  that  it  had  appeared  in  print;  but  so  it  was,  and 
it  had  caused  a  return  of  that  prostration  so  much 
dreaded  by  him. 

The  thing  pained  him  exceedingly.  But  that  mother 
had  still  another  cause  of  anxiety.  She  had  often 
feared  lest  the  remittance  which  she  received  for  her 
support  might  fail.  Edward's  means  were  expended ; 
would  he  receive  further  aid  ? 

Edward  had  anticipated  his  mother's  feelings,  but 
had  resolved  to  wait  for  her  to  break  the  subject  to 
him.    This  she  dreaded  to  do,  as  she  feared  the  result. 

"  I  had  thought,"  remarked  Edward  one  day,  "  that 
our  good  clergyman  would  have  become  an  aboli- 
tionist before  this  time,  but  I  find  him  more  pro-slavery 
than  when  I  left  him,  one  year  ago ;  now,  instead  of 
thinking  slavery  wrong,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  abol- 
ished, he  claims  it  to  be  an  institution  of  the  Bible, 
and  sanctioned  by  God." 

"  I  was  bold  enough  to  tell  him,  that  J  considered  it 
an  institution  of  the  devil." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  surprised  at  Edward's  boldness. 
"  Have  you  not  been  hasty,  my  son  ?  Perhaps  he  was 
hurt  at  your  freedom  of  expression." 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  Edward,  "  I  cannot  have  pa- 
tience when  I  hear  such  remarks  from  such  men  ;  they 
must  know  better." 

"  But  you  must  not  fall  out  with  Mr.  Brownson ;  he 
has  been  a  good  friend  to  us,"  said  his  mother. 

"  And  I  am  a  good  friend  to  the  slave,"  replied  Ed- 
ward ;  "  and  I  am  determined  to  obey  the  command  of 

my  Saviour.     If  I  were  a  slave,  mother  " ;  but  he 

was  interrupted.  "  It  will  be  done  away,"  came 
faintly  from  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  as  she  fainted  in  her  chair 


24  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Past  scenes  rushed  upon  the  recollection  of  Edward. 
"  I  should  not  have  spoken  upon  this  subject,"  thought 
he.  He  used  restoratives;  but  it  was  a  long  time 
before  his  mother  recovered  her  consciousness.  When 
she  did  revive,  she  seemed  bewildered.  Her  lips 
moved ;  he  bent  his  ear,  and  heard  her  say,  "  Slave ! 
Slave ! "  Then,  opening  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  Edward, 
dear  Edward,  slavery  will  be  done  away  —  he  told  me 
so." 

When  recovering  herself  still  more,  she  said,  "  I  am 
very  weak,  Edward;  will  you  send  Mrs.  Wise  to  me?" 
He  obeyed. 

"  I  hope  my  mother  will  soon  recover,"  said  he,  as  Mrs. 
Wise  entered  his  mother's  room,  and  closed  the  door 
after  her. 

"  Oh ! "  thought  Edward,  «  what  have  I  done  ?  "  He 
pressed  his  hand  upon  his  heart.  "  Father  in  heaven," 
he  murmured.  A  thousand  thoughts  seemed  to  press 
upon  his  mind  at  once.  He  listened  at  the  door. 
Would  she  recover,  or  was  he  about  to  lose  his  dear 
mother  ? 

At  length  he  prayed  mentally,  but  fervently;  a  calm- 
ness came  over  him.  All  was  still  within.  "  I  know 
that  thou  art  God,"  he  said  aloud.  Again  he  listened 
at  the  door. 

"  Where  is  Edward?"  he  heard  her  say.  Instantly  he 
was  by  her  side. 

"  Edward,"  said  she,  as  she  took  his  hand,  "  do  not 
be  alarmed ;  I  am  better  now." 

Edward  was  calm;  he  knelt  by  her  side,  and  kissed 
her  pale  lips. 

"  Oh ! "  said  she,  "  if  all  else  of  earth  is  gone,  I  am 
happy  in  having  such  a  son.     Pray,  Edward." 


THE  mother's  trials.  25 

Edward  did  pray,  and  it  was  prayer  indeed.  For 
several  days,  Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  confined  to  her  room. 
Edward  scarcely  left  her.  At  length  she  was  able  to 
ride  out  and  call  upon  Dr.  Freeman. 

"  I  will  rest  here,  while  you  call  at  the  Post-office," 
said  Mrs.  Le  Clare  to  Edward. 

"  Is  my  mother  in  danger  of  death  from  these  at- 
tacks ?  "  asked  Edward,  as  he  accompanied  the  doctor 
to  the  office. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say,"  replied  the  doctor. 
"If  there  is  disease  of  the  heart,  she  certainly  is  in 
danger :  and  yet  she  may  live  for  years." 

"  And  how  am  I  to  act  in  this  case?"  continued  Ed- 
ward.   "  I  fear  to  leave  her,  and  return  to  college." 

"  I  should  be  guided  entirely  by  her  decision,"  re- 
plied the  doctor. 

"  Here  is  a  letter,  mother,"  said  Edward,  on  his 
return. 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  merely  glanced  at  the  superscription. 
u  We  will  return  home,  my  son,"  said  she,  as  if  fearful 
of  betraying  her  agitation. 

On  arriving  at  home,  she  broke  the  seal.  It  was  a 
check  with  simply  the  following  : 

"  We  advise  the  young  man  to  be  prudent  in  his 
expenditures." 

This  letter  Mrs.  Le  Clare  handed  to  Edward  as 
she  said,  "  My  mind  is  much  relieved.  God  will  not 
forsake  us.  You  are  now  at  an  age  to  have,  I  trust, 
sufficient  wisdom  to  become  your  own  banker.  This 
is  to  be  devoted  entirely  to  your  education  ;  and  I  do 
not  feel  that  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  tell  you  to  be 
prudent;  I  am  sure  that  you  will  be  so.  That  advice  in 
the  letter,  however,  was  not  made  without  a  mean- 


26  THE  CURSE   ENTAILED. 

ing,  which,  although  we  do  not  now  understand,  will 
probably  be  understood  at  some  future  time.  You 
have  but  about  two  weeks  before  your  departure  to 
college." 

"  And  must  I  leave  you  in  your  present  state  of 
health,  dear  mother  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  son.  Were  there  a  less  object 
before  you,  I  might,  perhaps,  consent  to  your  remain- 
ing at  home  for  the  present;  but  my  health  is  improv- 
ing." 

"  But  the  thought  that  I  may  lose  you,  mother,  is 
distressing  to  me." 

"  Edward,"  she  said  calmly,  "  I  am  aware  of  my  sit- 
uation. My  health  is  seriously  impaired ;  death  may  be 
near,  even  at  the  door;  God  alone  knows.  I  am  not 
conscious,  however,  that  I  am  more  seriously  ill  than 
when  you  left  me,  two  years  ago.  Were  you  now 
through  with  your  education,  I  should  not  cling  to  life. 
You  can  therefore  see  how  anxious  I  am  that  you 
should  not  be  delayed  in  your  studies.  I  have  an  assur- 
ance in  my  mind  that  you  will  advance  in  wisdom  as 
you  advance  in  years.  I  have  asked  that  I  might  be 
be  spared  until  you  have  finished  your  course  in  col- 
lege. We  may  yet,  my  son,  spend  many  years  to- 
gether; at  any  rate,  may  we  both  be  enabled  to  say 
from  the  heart,  God's  will  be  done." 


CHAPTER  V. 

EDWARD  RETURNS  TO  COLLEGE. THE  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  and  Edward  again  parted,  but  with 
a  more  intense  interest  in  each  other's  welfare  —  fer- 
vently, yet  submissively,  commending  each  other  to 
him  who  was  able  to  direct  and  support  them  under 
all  their  trials. 

Earnestly  had  Edward  commended  his  mother  to 
the  care  of  good  Mrs.  Wise,  and  solemnly  had  she 
promised  to  do  all  in  her  power  to  render  her  comfor- 
table and  happy.  Heretofore  we  have  seen  Edward, 
as  it  were,  a  boy.  We  now  behold  him  nineteen  years 
of  age,  manly  and  noble.  He  is  large  in  stature,  and 
would  be  taken  for  twenty-one.  We  will  give  you  a 
part  of  his  correspondence : 

"  Dear  Mother,  —  I  feel  that  I  have  great  reason  to 
bless  God.  If  I  know  my  own  heart,  I  do  most  sin- 
cerely bless  him  for  all  his  loving  kindness,  and  for 
all  his  tender  mercies,  which  surround  me.  I  am  pur- 
suing my  studies  successfully.  I  see  many  here  whose 
external  appearance  is  much  calculated  to  please. 
But,  alas!  what  shall  I  say  of  their  minds:  they  do  not 
seem  to  grasp  for  that  which  is  good ;  they  seem  to 
live  only  for  their  present  enjoyment.  From  my  in- 
most soul  I  pity  them. 

"  Mother,  I  feel  how  much  I  owe  you  —  you  who  led 
me  in  the  paths  of  virtue  —  you  who  taught  me  truth; 

(27) 


U8  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

who  led  me  to  the  Throne  of  Grace ;  who  taught  me  to 
obey  God  rather  than  man.  I  feel  that  there  is  a  high 
destiny  for  those  who  do  not  suffer  the  mind  to  starve. 
While  I  despise  and  detest  the  acts  of  many,  I  still 
desire  to  do  them  good. 

"  But  I  am  casting  too  dark  a  shadow ;  believe  me, 
there  are  some  here  whom  I  love  and  respect,  with 
whom  I  hold  sweet  converse.  Mother,  reform  is  the 
watchword  and  beacon-light  of  many  a  heart  at  the 
present  time.  Mr.  Mason  is  my  classmate ;  his  soul  is 
fired  for  the  release  of  the  slave.  The  true  spirit  of 
philanthropy  fills  his  breast.  Methinks  it  will  take  but  a 
few  such  men  as  he  is  to  sound  a  note  of  alarm  which 
will  reach  the  heart  of  the  nation." 

But  how  was  Mrs.  Le  Clare  affected  by  his  letter? — 
she,  who  had  been  so  sensitive ;  she,  who  had  been  so 
excited  when  Edward  had  spoken  of  his  conversation 
with  Mr.  Brownson.  We  will  also  extract  from  her 
letter  to  Edward : 

"  There  was  much  in  your  last  letter,  my  dear  Ed- 
ward, which  pleased  me.  Do,  Edward,  be  frank  and 
open  in  all  things.  You  have  seen  me  so  sensitive 
upon  the  subject  of  slavery,  that  I  fear  you  think  you 
must  be  silent  upon  the  subject.  Do  not  be  so.  I  de- 
sire to  know  all  that  occurs.  You  wiil  oblige  me  by 
forwarding  me  anti-slavery  publications.  If  you  like, 
take  the  Liberator;  and  after  perusing  it  yourself,  send 
it  to  me,  and  I  will  read  and  circulate  it  here. 

"  Mr.  Brownson  is  becoming  very  sensitive  upon  the 
subject  of  slavery.  I  do  not  think  his  mind  is  easy. 
We  have  had  an  anti-slavery  lecturer  here.  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  opposition  here. 
The  use  of   the  church  was  denied;  but  Mr.  Hanson 


EDWARD    IN   COLLEGE. 


invited  the  lecturer  to  speak  in  his  barn,  which  is 
large  new  one,  not  yet  finished. 

"  Pro-slavery  men  attended,  and  went  away,  some 
angry,  but  more,  I  believe,  determined  to  give  the  sub- 
ject an  examination.  And  shall  I  meet  you  again,  my 
dear  son,  and  be  permitted  to  see  and  hear  you  speak 
of  the  wrongs  of  slavery?  I  have,  and  do  still  be- 
lieve, that  it  will  soon  be  done  away ;  yes,  that  there  is 
many  a  poor  heart,  now  bleeding  in  bondage,  which 
will  yet  taste  of  freedom ;  but  my  trust  is  in  God. 
Believing  this,  I  have  formerly  felt  as  if  I  would  much 
rather  that  you  would  remain  passive  upon  the  subject ; 
but  I  had  forgotten  that  God  works  by  means.  A  new 
light  has  broken  upon  my  mind.  I  now  feel  that  God 
has  raised  you  up  for  great  good.  You  have  hereto- 
fore read  my  desire  in  my  silence,  and  have  endeav- 
ored to  conform  to  it.  But  now,  my  dear  son,  you 
need  fear  this  no  more.  Work,  Edward,  work  in  the 
'  vineyard  of  the  Lord,'  for  the  good  time  is  coming. 
'  Do  with  thy  might  whatsoever  thy  hands  find  to  do.' 
Pray  for  the  downtrodden  sons  and  daughters  of  Amer- 
ica. Hasten,  O  Lord,  that  glorious  day!  (Does  it  not, 
my  son,  already  dawn  upon  us?)  That  bright  and 
glorious  boon  of  freedom  —  freedom  from  the  worst  of 
oppressions,  American  slavery !  Oh !  how  I  long  to 
commune  with  you  as  I  do  with  my  own  heart." 

True,  Edward  had  read  much  in  his  mother's  silence ; 
but  this  was  not  all.  He  had  read  also  the  agony  of 
her  heart ;  and  he  believed  there  was  something  con- 
nected with  it,  which  he  did  not  understand,  and  which 
he  greatly  feared  would  hasten  her  dissolution.  Can  it 
be,  he  sometimes  thought,  that  her  father  was,  or  is  a 
slaveholder,  and  that,  upon  that  account,  she  has  sepa- 
3* 


30  THE  CURSE   ENTAILED. 

rated  from   her  family,  as   did   the    Misses  G ? 

There  was  a  burden  removed  from  his  heart,  and  he 
resolved  that,  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  he  would 
perform  his  duty. 

Passing  over  events,  which  might  perhaps  be  profit- 
able, we  come  to  the  year  18 — .  The  nation  was 
aroused.  The  hearts  of  good  men  trembled.  South- 
ern slaveholders  were  loud  and  boisterous  wherever 
they  were.  Edward  had  complied  with  the  request  of  his 
mother.  She  received  the  Liberator  weekly,  and  inval- 
uable was  it  to  her.  Its  holy  principles  and  undying 
zeal  strengthened  her  faith. 

In  her  answer  to  Edward,  she  says : 

"  I  was  right,  my  dear  son  ;  slavery  is  tottering ;  it 
cannot  long  exist.  Pray,  Edward,  pray!  Oh!  you 
know  not  how  long  1  have  prayed  for  its  overthrow ; 
truth  and  justice  will  triumph." 

In  Edward's  reply,  he  says : 

"  I  am  rejoiced  in  spirit  on  the  perusal  of  your  last ; 
it  rejoices  me  that  you  are  able  to  write.  The  good 
cause  is  gaining  ground  rapidly.  My  friend,  Wilson,  is 
well  posted  upon  the  past  abolition  movements.  You 
may  well  be  assured  that  God  is  in  the  work.  I  would 
like  to  have  you  hear  him  relate  a  few  facts  which 
occurred,  from  1832  to  1840,  in  the  first  anti-slavery 
agitation,  and  were  never  published ;  but,'  as  you  cannot 
hear  them  from  him,  let  me  relate  some  of  them  to  you, 
from  memory ;  for  they  will  illustrate  what  great  changes 
have  taken  place  in  the  nation  since  those  times  in 
relation  to  human  freedom.  Said  the  lecturer :  '  I 
never  can  forget  with  what  mingled  emotions  of  horror, 
sorrow,  and  sympathy,  I  received  this  account  from  the 
pen  of  the  sufferer  himself : 


EDWARD  IN  COLLEGE. 

" '  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  noble,  humble, 
and  zealous  follower  of  Christ,  than  was  my  young 

friend,  and  schoolmate,  Augustus   E ,  of  G , 

Massachusetts.  He  was  a  beloved  member  of  the 
Orthodox  church,  an  able  scholar,  and  studying,  with  a 
view  to  the  ministry,  in  Yale  College.  This  young 
gentleman,  the  son  of  a  learned  and  successful  phy- 
sician, had  a  deformity,  which  affected  his  scalp ;  the 
consequence  was,  that  a  part  of  his  hair  was  of  a  natu- 
rally soft,  fine  texture  and  brown  color,  while  another 
part  of  the  hair  was  black,  coarse  and  curly*  For  this 
slight  deformity,  he  was  constantly  tortured  by  the 
finger  of  scorn  and  contempt,  and  his  ears  saluted 
with  humiliating  and  disgusting  epithets.  And  when 
the  young  Southern  chivalry  found  that  this  kind .  of 
persecution  would  not  crush  his  lofty  soul,  and  make 
him  give  up  his  holy  enterprise,  and  leave  the  institution, 
they  called  large  and  excited  meetings  of  the  students, 
and  brought  their  influence  to  bear  on  the  faculty  and 
officers  of  the  institution,  demanding  his  expulsion  on 
the  ground,  that,  (although  they  were  assured  that  his 
parents  were  both  white,)  his  coarse  and  curly  hair 
must,  in  some  way  and  in  some  degree,  be  caused  by 
African  taint.  And  so  great  was  the  excitement,  that 
the  faculty  were  forced  to  energetic  and  humiliating 
labors,  in  procuring  testimonies  to  make  it  perfectly 
clear  and  undoubted,  to  their  minds,  that  such  a  defor- 
mity could,  and  in  this  case  did,  originate  from  another 
r-ause  than  African  taint.' 

"  Dear  mother,  only  think  of  the  state  of  public  senti- 
ment that  could  produce  such  a  fact !  I  ask,  in  what 
benighted  corner  of  God's  earth,  at  this  day,  could  a 
similar  row  be  raised,  on  similar  grounds? 


32  '  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  '  Again,'  said  the  lecturer,  '  in  those  early  days  of 
anti-slavery  excitement,  in  what  is  now  Summit 
county,  of  the  anti-slavery  State  of  Ohio,  there  was 
a  student  in  college,  whose  light  on  the  subject  ot 
human  freedom  he  was  unwilling  to  put  under  a  bushel. 
Going,  therefore,  to  a  neighboring  town,  he  gave  notice 
that  he  would  address  the  people  on  the  subject  of 
American  slavery.  The  evening  came ;  those  who 
wished  to  hear,  had  entered  the  house.  When  about  to 
commence  his  remarks,  the  house  was  surrounded  by  an 
infuriated  mob,  under  the  command  of  Col.  C.  They 
forced  themselves  into  the  house,  threatening  to  take  the 
lecturer  out,  give  him  a  coat  of  "  tar  and  feathers,'11 
which  they  said  was  all  ready,  and  then  escort  him 
to  his  own  home.  The  student,  not  being  able  to 
speak  to  the  people,  told  the  colonel  and  his  men,  that, 
although  they,  that  evening,  were  all-powefful,  and 
were  able  to  have  it  all  their  own  way,  yet  they  might 
as  well  make  up  their  minds  to  let  the  subject  be  ex- 
amined and  discussed  first  as  last,  for  that  the  subject 
would  be  discussed —  if  not  by  others,  it  would  be  by 
him,  throughout  the  county.  They  answered  him,  very 
positively,  that  he  would  never  live  to  do  it. 

"  •  They  moreover  assured  him,  that  they  had  firmly 
resolved  that  he  should  not  there,  nor  anywhere  in  the 
county,  hold  a  meeting  on  the  subject.  (This  high 
ground  was  not  eventually  fully  sustained.  He  held 
some  twelve  or  fourteen  meetings,  and  was  mobbed 
some  six  or  seven  times.) 

" '  After  much  had  been  said  and  done  by  the  mob,  the 
student  said,  "  Friends,  we  will  bring  these  exercises  to 
a  close  with  prayers."  He  commenced  praying,  and 
the  mob  commenced  leaving  the  house  and  preparing 


EDWARD   IN   COLLEGE.  33 

for  out-door  exercises.  They  arranged  their  plans, 
mounted  their  horses,  and  rode  round  the  building,  yelling 
like  savages,  blowing  horns,  and  smashing  in  the  win- 
dows. When  the  prayer  closed,  the  young  man  took 
a  light  in  his  hand ;  while  two  young  ladies,  who  feared 
nothing  in  a  good  cause,  taking  each  an  arm,  escorted 
the  young  man  out  into  the  midst  of  the  mob  —  and, 
thus  supported  and  shielded,  he  passed  safely  through  a 
mob  of  prancing  steeds  and  raging  men.  When  it  was 
ascertained  that  he  had  not  been  taken,  they  sought  out 
and  surrounded  the  house  where  he  had  entered,  and 
declared  they  would  take  him  at  all  hazards.  But, 
when  they  went  into  the  tavern  " to  liquor  up"  the 
young  man  left  for  a  place  of  safety. 

" '  The  mob,  a  few  evenings  after,  played  that  they 
had  him  in  their  power.  Taking  his  effigy,  they  bore 
it  through  the  streets,  took  it  to  the  place  of  execution, 
and  bound  it  to  a  stake,  planted  on  the  common,  be- 
fore the  door  of  the  church,  where,  with  faggots  and 
fire,  it  was  consumed.  A  large  monument  of  stones 
was  placed  upon  the  spot,  and  above  it  this  inscription : 

"  Sacred  to  the  memory  of ,  the  Apostle  of  Abolition,  and  friend 

of  the  Nigger  Wenches  ;  who  died  a  martyr  at  the  stake,  June — ,  18 — , 
in  the  23d  year  of  his  age." 

"  '  And  when,  by  these  exhibitions  of  folly,  they  sup- 
posed they  had  put  a  stop  to  abolition  doctrines,  they 
were  astonished  to  see  them  spread  with  still  greater 
rapidity.  At  that  time,  so  entirely  was  the  public  sen- 
timent of  the  whole  nation  under  the  control  of  slave- 
holders, that  there  were  no  laws  in  any  part  of  the 
United  States  able  or  willing  to  prevent  a  lawless  mob 
from  wreaking  their  vengeance  on  an  abolitionist,  ox  to 
punish  them,  when  they  had  done  it. 


34  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

" '  Few  are  at  tliis  day  so  ignorant  as  not  to  perceive 
the  mighty  achievement  resulting  from  anti-slavery  agita- 
tion.' Said  the  lecturer :  '  So  late  as  the  presidential 
election  of  '48,  when  Northern  freemen  were  making 
extraordinary  efforts  to  elect  a  Southern  slaveholder  and 
warrior  to  the  presidency,  I  attended  a  mass  meeting 
in  the  northern  part  of  Ohio,  where  is  located  one  of 
the  oldest  colleges  of  the  State,  and  where  Southern 
patronage  had  placed  a  few  sprigs  of  young  chivalry  to  be 
nurtured.  Being  well  acquainted  in  the  place,  -having 
formerly  been  a  member  of  the  same  institution,  and 
feeling  very  much  at  home,  I  sat  in  one  of  the  public 
resorts  with  some  old  friends,  discussing  familiarly  the 
merits  of  the  slave  power  as  entitled  to  rule  the  nation. 
I  soon  noticed  a  young  man,  having  airs  of  importance, 
listening  to  our  conversation  ;  but,  as  he  was  a  perfect 
stranger  to  me,  there  was  no  particular  deference  paid 
to  him.  I  remarked  that,  as  there  could  not  be  two  fair ', 
rightful  owners  to  the  same  thing,  at  the  same  time, 
consequently,  where  two  claimants  brought  forward 
claims  for  the  same  thing,  one  of  course  could  only  be 
a  thief  s  or  robber's  title.  And,  said  I,  as  none  but  a 
fool  or  knave  will  deny  that  every  human  being  is 
accountable  to  God  for  his  actions  —  has  the  original 
God  given  right  to  use  for  himself  his  own  powers  of 
body  and  mind — it  follows,  that,  whenever  another 
person  lays  claim  to  his  neighbor's  body  and  mind  as 
owner,  he  has  preferred  only  a  thief's  claim  or  title  ; 
and,  if  he  persists  in  depriving  the  original  owners  of 
themselves,  he  should  be  prosecuted  and  condemned  as 
a  robber  of  his  fellow  man,  and  punished  accordingly. 
''-  That's  right,"  said  the  'squire ;  "  that  proposition  cannot 
be  overthrown  —  it 's  truth."     "  It  is  a  d d  lie,"  said 


EDWARD    JN-COLLEGE.  35 

the  young  stranger ;  "  if  that  proposition  is  true,  Gen. 
Taylor,  and  many  great  men,  are  thieves  and  robbers." 
"  I  know  that  it  proves  every  one,  who  claims  to  own  his 
fellow  man,  to  be  a  thief  and  robber,"  said  I.  "  You 
are  a  liar,"  said  the  boy ;  "  and,  if  you  will  take  that, 
you  are  a  coward;  and  if  you  don't  take  that  propo- 
sition back,  I  will  split  your  head  open ;  for  I  would 
have  you  to  understand  that  I  am  a  slaveholder  myself; 
that  I  own  slaves,  and  I  won't  take  such  insults."  "  I 
don't  know  but  you  are  a  slaveholder,  sir,"  said  I;  "you 
are  a  stranger  to  me,  and  I  have  said  nothing  that  I  in- 
tended for  you ;  but  if  my  proposition  meets  your  case, 
you  must  show  that  it  is  fallacious,  or  own  to  its  truth." 
"Don't  you  insinuate  that  I  am  a  thief  and  robber?" 
said  he.  "  Take  it  all  back ;  swallow  your  words,  or  I 
will  knock  your  teeth  down  your  throat ;  for  I  would 
have  you  to  understand  that  I  am  the  owner  of  a  smarter 
man  than  you  are,  if  he  is  black."  "  I  do  not  deny 
what  you  say,"  said  I;  "but,  if  such  be  the  fact,  would 
it  not  be  good  policy  in  you  to  change  places  with 
him?" 

"'I  sat  quietly  in  my  chair,  in  very  good  humor; 
when,  in  a  great  rage,  he  sprang  to  the  stove,  seized  the 
poker,  saying :  "  Take  back  what  you  said,  or  I  shall 
smash  your  chops  for  you."  On  my  hesitating,  he 
struck  me  with  considerable  violence  across  the  face 
with  the  poker.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  take  that,  and  have 
a  mind  as  to  what  you  say  to  me."  I  quietly  arose  from 
my  seat,  went  to  the  stove,  and  spit  the  blood  from  my 
mouth;  after „ which,  I  calmly  told  the  youth  that  I 
had  no  doubt  he  was  acting  in  accordance  with  his 
bringing  up ;  but  that  his  teachings  had  been  all  wrong; 
and  if  he  would  be  calm,  and  listen  to  me,  I  would  in- 


36  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

struct  him  in  the  great  truths  of  human  rights ;  for  I 
was  convinced  that  he  was  not  so  much  to  blame  as 
were  his  superiors;  that  I  was  well  aware  that  his 
character  was  but  the  legitimate  formation  of  the 
nation's  public  sentiment.  He  said  he  would  not  dis- 
grace himself  so  much  as  to  stop  to  hear  my  remarks ; 
and  immediately  left  the  room,  and  proceeded  to  the 
college. 

" '  In  a  short  time  after,  I  discovered  that  he  had 
again  entered  the  room ;  and,  with  his  face  turned  from 
observation,  was  apparently  unnoticed  by  others,  but 
was  obviously  listening  to  all  that  was  going  on  around 
him.  I,  patting  him  gently  on  the  shoulder,  said  to 
him :  "  I  do  not  know  your  name,  sir,  but  I  feel  interested 
in  you ;  and,  as  you  seem  to  be  at  leisure,  had  we  not 
better  have  some  further  conversation  ?  "  He  straight- 
ened himself  to  his  full  height  (which,  by  the  way,  was 
not  alarming),  and  said :  "  You  just  shut  your  mouth, 
at  once  —  just  stop  your  noise  —  or  I  will  stop  it  for 
you.  I  will  choke  you  till  you  can't  speak."  And,  suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  sentiment,  he  seized  me  by  the 
throat,  and  tugged  away ;  but,  as  I  stood  still,  and  offered 
him  no  resistance,  he,  after  a  while,  let  go  his  hold ; 
and,  venting  his  rage  in  horrid  threats,  went  in  search 
of  his  comrades.  When  he  had  found  them,  and  laid 
the  case  before  them,  they  gave  it  as  their  opinion,  in 
presence  of  some  of  the  citizens,  that  I  was  a  doomed 
man;  and  so  alarmed  were  some  for  my  safety,  that 
they  kept  an  eye  on  the  doings  of  the  young  slaveholder 
till  I  had  left  town. 

"  '  Well,  what  said  public  sentiment  in  relation  to  this 
particular  occurrence  ?  Dr.  Ashman  and  other  leading 
politicians  said,  "  that  the  young  slaveholder  served  me 


EDWARD   IN   COLLEGE.  37 

just  right;  that  I  had  no  business  to  meddle  with  the 
institution  of  slavery ;  that  I  had  for  a  long  time  been 
in  the  habit  of  forcing  my  views  on  the  community  in 
relation  to  slavery ;  and  I  was  the  one  who  was  the 
aggressor,  and  that  the  young  gentleman  had  done 
nobly  in  defending  himself."  ' 

"  Well,  dear  mother,  have  we  not  great  reason  to 
bless  God,  notwithstanding  the  still  remaining  darkness, 
that  there  has  been  so  great  an  advance  in  public  senti- 
ment since  that  day  on  the  subject  of  human  freedom?" 

Mrs.  Le  Clare's  reply : 

"My  Dear  Son,  —  You  are  anxious  to  know  all 
about  my  health.  It  is  certainly  much  improved.  I 
walked  to  Mr.  Brownson's  yesterday.  My  heart  is 
sorely  tried  with  that  good  old  man.  I  cannot  prevail 
upon  him  to  read  the  Liberator.  It  is  very  distressing 
to  me  to  see  ministers  of  the  gospel,  and  members  of 
churches,  taking  a  stand  with  the  slaveholders  of  the 
South.  Surely,  such  ministers  are  no  longer  'watch- 
men on  the  walls  of  Zion.'  But  light  is  breaking  in 
upon  us  here ;  I  am  astonished,  however,  at  the  darkness 
upon  people's  minds.  '  The  slave  is  better  off  where  he 
is,'  is  the  remark  of  some.  '  If  the  slaves  were  set  free, 
we  would  be  in  danger  of  our  lives,'  say  others.  '  They 
are  an  inferior  race,  and  God  designed  them  for  slaves. 
They  have  no  souls ;  they  are  a  species  of  the  orang- 
outang.' 

"  Beware !  O  Church  of  Christ !  '  God  will  remove 
thy  candlestick  from  its  place.'  Surely  he  will  hold 
thee  in  derision  in  thine  hour  of  distress.  When  thou 
criest  unto  him,  he  will  not  hear ;  for  the  cry  of  the  op- 
pressed has  entered  into  his  ear,  and  he  will  avenge 
their  cause.  Tremble,  O  America !  Many  a  nation 
4 


38  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

has  fallen  in  her  pride,  and  her  sons  and  daughters  were 
left  desolate  in  the  land  of  their  fathers." 

Edward  to  his  mother : 

"  Nothing  adds  more  to  my  happiness,  my  dear 
mother,  than  to  learn  of  your  welfare.  Be  not  discour- 
aged. Now,  verily,  have  I  found  the  promise  fulfilled: 
*  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  thou  shall  find  it 
after  many  days.' 

"  Frank  Le  Rux,  the  Southerner  who  assaulted  me, 
did  not  return  again  to  college.  He  was  in  the  senior 
class,  and  certainly  was  a  young  man  of  talent.  From 
the  time,  of  the  assault,  we  never  spoke  with  each  other. 
Our  eyes  sometimes  met,  and  I  thought  I  discovered  a 
sullen  doggedness  in  his  look.  After  a  while,  however, 
his  manners  seemed  changed,  and  I  thought  there  was 
a  look  of  melancholy  upon  his  face. 

"  One  day  I  was  standing  in  the  hall.  The  students 
had  mostly  passed  out.  As  I  turned,  I  beheld  him 
standing  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  He  was 
pale  and  solemn ;  there  he  stood  like  a  statue.  Our  eyes 
met,  and  I  thought  his  lips  moved.  I  felt  prompted  to 
move  towards  him.  Instantly  a  warmth  filled  my  soul ; 
all  my  harshness  towards  him  was  forgotten.  I  could 
have  clasped  him  affectionately  to  my  heart.  I  moved 
towards  him,  when  a  classmate  touched  my  shoulder, 
and  said,  '  Southern  chivalry,  truly.  Come,  Edward,  I 
would  not  like  to  leave  you  here  for  that  fellow's  re- 
venge.' I  stopped ;  slowly  Frank  Le  Rux  moved 
across  the  room,  and  passed  out  at  the  door.  '  That 
was  not  a  look  of  revenge  Le  Rux  gave  me,'  said  I ; 
'  and,  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  remark,  I  should  have 
had  him  by  the  hand.' 

"'  YfH."  said  my  friend,  'and  opened  your  bosom  to  his 


EDWARD   IN    COLLEGE.  39 

bowie-knife,  or  pistol,  I  suppose  ?  You  are  too  warm- 
hearted, Edward.  That  fellow  will  haunt  you  to  your 
death.  You  are  in  the  North  now ;  but  meet  him  in 
the  South,  and  we  shall  have  a  notice  in  the  papers 
running  thus : 

"  Edward  Le  Clare  was  run  through  the  body  by  a 
young  fire-eater.  It  seems  the  grudge  originated  at  the 
North,  during  their  college  course.  Good  enough  for 
him.  This  is  the  way  to  serve  all  abolitionists  who 
visit  the  South  with  their  liberty-loving  principles." 

"  This  was  natural  enough ;  but  then  I  had  wounded 
my  own  spirit  in  not  advancing  to  a  reconciliation  as  I 
felt  inclined  to  ;  and,  for  days,  his  look  haunted  me.  I 
felt  that  it  was  a  look  of  sorrow  and  woe. 

"  Now,  mother,  read  the  enclosed,  which  I  received 
yesterday." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  had  been  much  agitated  while 
perusing  this  part  of  Edward's  letter.  She  now 
retired  to  her  own  room.  "  O  God !  give  me  strength," 
said  she,  as  she  opened  it,  and  read  as  follows : 

*  "New  Orleans,    *    *    * 

"  Edward  Le  Clare,  —  Start  not  as  you  peruse 
this.  I  have  well  learned  the  kindness  of  your  heart, 
and  I  fear  not  to  address  you;  I  say,  I  have  well 
learned.  From  the  hour  of  the  assault  in  the  hall  un- 
til we  left  at  vacation,  I  watched  you  narrowly ;  and, 
by  reading,  learned  the  nobleness  of  your  every  action. 
Oh !  could  you  but  know  what  I  have  endured,  from  that 
hour  until  the  present  time,  surely  you  would  pity  me 
from  your  inmost  soul.  Of  what  use  was  it  for  me  to 
attribute  your  conduct  to  cowardice,  or  try  to  make  my- 
self the  aggrieved  one  ?  There  you  stood  before  me, 
a  monument  to  my  shame.     Ah !  those  words,  '  at  the 


40  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

judgment,'  how  they  sounded  in  my  ears!  I  had 
hardly,  in  my  whole  life,  thought  of  it.  Oh !  I  was 
dreadfully  unhappy.  I  went  to  my  Bible ;  I  could  not 
read  —  every  word  smote  me.  I  tried  to  pray  —  all 
was  dark ;  I  longed  to  ask  your  forgiveness.  You 
recollect  our  meeting  in  the  hall.  I  had  scarcely  power 
to  move ;  I  seemed  fixed  to  the  spot.  Could  I  have 
been  left  alone  with  you,  I  might  have  spoken.  Al- 
though my  lips  moved,  I  could  not  articulate.  It 
seemed  so  cruel  that  George  must  interfere,  with  such 
harsh  and  cutting  remarks  to  you ;  and  yet  it  was  all 
natural  enough  —  it  was  so  like  the  South.  I  feared 
that  I  should  fall  ere  I  reached  the  door.  That  night  I 
watched  long  upon  the  college  green ;  I  thought  you 
would  come  there ;  but  you  did  not.  The  next  morn- 
ing I  saw  you  depart,  and,  with  you,  all  my  hope  of 
happiness.  I  also  left.  Oh  !  what  anguish  was  in  my 
soul.  Oh !  thought  I,  what  a  mockery  is  religion ! 
'Hypocrites!'  I  exclaimed,  'ye  men  of  the  North, 
surely  you  "draw  nigh  to  God  with  your  lips,  while 
your  hearts  are  far  from  him."  Ye  who  fill  the  sacred 
desk,  apologizing  for  the  accursed  sin  of  slavery! — ye 
who  have  light  upon  the  subject,  helping  to  bind  the 
chain  of  the  poor  slave!'  All  I  could  see  of  religion 
seemed  a  mockery;  and,  from  my  inmost  soul,  Edward, 
I  loathed  and  detested  all  their  prayers.  I  felt  that 
their  sermons  were  a  libel  upon  true  religion  ;  if  indeed 
there  was  true  religion.  Edward,  I  hated  the  North ; 
but,  above  all,  I  hated  President  P of  our  col- 
lege, and  all  pro-slavery  preachers.  In  all  my  thoughts, 
you  shone  before  me  as  a  bright  beacon-light.  I  saw 
you  noble,  generous,  pure.  Ah!  thought  I,  in  him 
shines  the  image  of  Jesus  Christ.     I  returned  to  what 


EDWARD    IN   COLLEGE.  41 

I  had  always  thought  a  pleasant  home.  All  to  me 
was  now  changed.  Even  the  trees  and  flowers  seemed 
changed.  '  Hated  things,'  said  I,  to  myself ;  *  with  all 
your  beauty,  you  are  accursed;  for  the  hands  of  the 
downtrodden  have  planted  and  watered  you.'  The 
fruit,  once  so  delicious,  now  tasted  of  blood!  And 
blood !  blood ! !  was  constantly  sounding  in  my  ears. 

"  My  parents  said  I  was  sick,  and  so  I  was.  But 
what  did  they  know  about  my  sickness  ?  Oh !  how  I 
longed  to  unbosom  myself  to  my  mother;  but  how 
could  I  do  it  ? 

" l  Mother ! '  said  I,  one  day,  as  the  broom  was  raised 
to  strike  down  a  faithful  mulatto  house-servant ;  but 
down  came  the  blow  upon  her  unoffending  head  —  for 
her  offence  was  purely  a  mistake;  and,  while  the  girl 
staggered  a  few  steps  and  fell,  my  mother  without  look- 
ing at  her,  said,  '  Frank!  never  interfere  with  me  again. 

Have  you  become  an  abolitionist?     President  P 

has  taught  you  that  slavery  is  an  institution  of  the 
Bible.  We  have  watched  him  well  on  that  point ;  for, 
had  he  preached  abolition  from  his  pulpit,  your  father 
would  not  have  permitted  you  to  remain  there  an  hour.' 
'  Oh!'  thought  I,  'the  blood  of  the  dying  slave  is  on  his 
skirts.'  And  then  came  your  words  to  my  mind, 
'  May  I  never  meet  you  again,  unless,  you  become  a 
better  man,  until  I  meet  you  with  an  assembled  uni- 
verse, at  the  judgment.'     I  shuddered. 

"  Often  have  I  left  the  plantation  when  a  slave  was  to 
be  punished,  and  gone  away  to  escape  the  sound  of  the 
lash,  and  the  groans  and  screams  of  the  poor  victims. 
But,  alas!  what  mattered  it?  The  murmur  of  the 
brook,  as  it  wound  along,  was  a  groan  in  my  ears ;  and 
the  wind,  aw  it  whistled  through  the  trees,  seemed  a 


42  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

wail.  O  Edward!  could  you  but  see  our  sunny 
South,  so  beautiful,  and  yet  so  cursed  with  that  foulest 
of  spots,  slavery.  There  is  a  leprosy  upon  her,  but 
she  clings  to  it  with  a  death  grasp.  She  finds  no  phy- 
sician, she  seeks  none.  It  is  madness.  Ah  !  Edward ; 
if  the  North  were  all  like  you,  there  would  be  hope. 
But  I  tell  you  their  pro-slaveryism  binds  the  thing 
stronger.  Alas !  alas !  I  feel  pained  in  mind ;  my  heart 
is  sick  at  the  sight  of  the  wrongs  and  outrages  of  this 
guilty  land. 

"  Do  write  me,  Edward,  that  I  am  forgiven. 

"  Farewell,  Frank  Le  Rux." 

A  deep  groan  escaped  from  Mrs.  Le  Clare  as  she 
finished  reading  the  letter.  She  arose  and  walked  the 
room,  while  the  tears  followed  each  other  in  quick  suc- 
cession down  her  pale  cheeks.  "  Yes,"  she  murmured ; 
"  he  is  right.  Blood !  blood ! !  It  is  everywhere.  At  the 
North,  and  at  the  South;  and  long  has  it  cried  from  1he 
ground  for  vengeance.  The  hour  of  redemption  for  the 
oppressed  is  coming  ;  but  when,  I  know  not." 

For  a  while  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  cords  of  life 
would  snap.  "  It  will  be  done  away,"  said  she,  as  she 
lifted  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  cried,  "  Father  in  heaven ! 
let  this  bitter  cup  of  slavery  pass  from  this  nation 
before  it  overflows,  and  they  be  forced  to  drink  it  to  the 
dregs."  She  fell  upon  her  knees  and  poured  out  her 
soul  in  fervent  supplication  to  God.  She  prayed  for 
the  slave,  and  for  the  slaveholder.  She  prayed  for  this 
young  man.  "  Father,"  she  said,  "  show  him  thyself,  and 
he  will  find  peace."  She  prayed  for  Edward,  that  God 
would  give  him  wisdom ;  but  the  burden  of  her  prayer 
was  for  pro-slavery  ministers  and  pro-slavery  Christians 
at  the  North. 


EDWARD   IN   COLLEGE.  43 

"O  Lord,  let  them  not  stand  in  the  way  of  the 
slave's  redemption,  lest  they  become  a  stumblingblock, 
a  hissing,  and  a  byword  among  thine  enemies." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  arose  from  her  knees  calm  and  re- 
freshed, and  taking  her  pen,  wrote  to  Edward  as  follows : 

"  My  Dear  Edward, —  May  God  give  you  wisdom 
and  strength  equal  to  your  day.  I  am  humbled  before 
the  Lord  for  what  mine  eyes  see  and  mine  ears  hear. 
The  good  time  is  coming,  and  God  has  made  you  an 
instrument  in  his  hand  to  hasten  it.  That  young  man 
is  also  destined  to  do  much  good ;  I  have  carried  him 
to  the  Lord  in  the  arms  of  faith.  For  the  present, 
dear  Edward,  you  seem  to  be  the  staff  upon  which  he 
leans.  You  must  point  him  to  the  Lamb  of  God  who 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.  He  greatly  needs 
support ;  and  there  is  but  one  rock  upon  which  his  feet 
can  stand.  Pray,  then;  let  every  word  you  write  to 
him  be  directed  by  God." 

Edward  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  truth  of  his 
mother's  remarks.  How  could  he  direct  Frank  ?  But 
at  length  his  heart  was  moved ;  and,  without  reserve, 
he  wrote  to  him  as  follows : 

"  My  Dear  Sir, — With  joy  do  I  hasten  to  greet 
you  in  the  name  of  our  common  Father — in  the  name 
of  Him  who  has  made  of  one  blood  all  nations.  I  also 
greet  you  in  body;  for  I  seem  to  hold  you  by  the  hand, 
and  fold  you  to  my  heart.  Doing  this,  as  I  do,  fresh 
from  the  throne  of  grace — having  felt  the  assurance — 
I  say,  from  henceforth  thou  art  the  Lord's;  he  has 
found  thee.  Relinquish  thyself,  soul  and  body,  into 
his  hands ;  consecrate  thyself  wholly  to  him.  i  Praise 
the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  for  what  he  has  done!'  that  he 
hath  opened  thine  eyes  to  behold  the  light  of  divine 


44  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

truth.  There  comes  from  the  East  and  from  the  West, 
from  the  North,  and,  1  can  now  say,  from  the  South, 
a  voice  crying,  '  Loose  every  yoke,  and  let  the  oppressed 
go  free.' 

"  I  grieved  my  own  spirit,  dear  Frank,  at  the  time 
we  last  met  in  the  hall ;  for  I  was  drawn  towards  you 
in  tenderness.  I  have  been  sorely  tried  here  with  pro- 
slaveryism ;  but  it  is  past  —  the  spell  is  broken  which 
bound  me.  Neither  am  I  possessed  of  a  man-fearing 
spirit,  which  serves  greatly  to  retard  one's  progression. 

"  Pro-slavery  men  are  awfully  guilty ;  God  will  judge 
them.  To  their  own  Master  they  stand  or  fall.  God 
is  raising  up  men  from  every  sect  for  his  holy  work. 
There  is  a  religion  which  is  pure  and  holy;  it  is  a  foun- 
tain from  which  every  one  can  drink : 

" 'T  is  a  fountain  of  love,  full  of  waters  of  life; 
It  is  sent  from  above  ;  it  subdues  every  strife  ; 
It  softens  bard  hearts  in  answer  to  prayer ; 
Who  drinks  from  that  stream  can  never  despair. 

"  1  long  to  meet  you,  and  hold  sweet  converse  with 
you  ;  and  here  let  me  ask  you  to  open  your  heart  freely 
to  me,  at  all  times  and  under  all  circumstances.  Let 
us,  from  this  time,  be  as  were  Jonathan  and  David." 

Edward  was  much  struck  with  Frank's  remarks 
respecting  the  guilt  of  pro-slavery  preachers;  and,  be- 
fore leaving  his  seat,  after  finishing  his  letter  to  Frank, 
he  wrote  a  letter  to  Rev.  Mr.  Brownson,  from  which  we 
extract  the  following : 

"  Di:ar  Sir,  —  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  a 
young  man  living  at  the  South,  who  is  convinced  of 
the  sin  of  slavery.  This  communication  has  more 
than  ever  convinced  me  of  the  guilt  of  those  who  up- 


EDWARD    IN   COLLEOxE.  45 

hold  this  abominable  institution.  My  dear  sir,  I  would 
speak  freely.  I  was  taught  by  my  mother  to  reverence 
you. 

"  My  young  friend's  letter  says,  'that  you  bind  the 
chain  tighter  on  the  neck  of  the  slave  every  time  you 
quote  the  Bible  in  its  support ;  and  that  he  hopes  never 
to  meet  another  pro-slavery  preacher,  until  he  meets  him, 
with  an  assembled  universe,  at  the  judgment  of  the 
Great  Day.'  My  dear  sir,  are  you  a  watchman  on  the 
walls  of  Zion?  If  so,  will  you  write  and  tell  me, 
'what  of  the  night?'  and  what  its  signs  of  promise 
are  ?     Yours,  in  search  of  truth, 

"  Edward    Le  Clare." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  moved  more  in  society  than  formerly, 
and  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  meeting  many  who  re- 
ciprocated her  feelings  in  regard  to  slavery  ;  and,  while 
it  warmed  her  heart,  she  spoke  often  upon  the  subject 
with  a  boldness  and  freedom  which  almost  astonished 
herself. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Brownson  called  upon  her,  exhorting 
her,  as  her  shepherd,  to  desist  from  anti-slavery  agitation. 

Many  months  had  now  elapsed,  since  Edward's  letter 
was  sent  to  Frank  Le  Rux,  and  he  had  received  no  answer. 
The  time  was  drawing  near  for  him  to  visit  home,  and 
he  wished  much  to  hear  from  him.  At  length  he  re- 
ceived the  following,  which  we  will  give  verbatim  : 

"  New  Orleans  Post  Office,  August  — ,  18 — . 
"  Edward  Le  Clare  : 

My  Dear  Friend, — for  such  you,  my  more  than 
brother,  are  willing  to  acknowledge  me, —  I  have 
been  seriously  ill.  Unfortunately,  I  was  taken  sick 
before    your    letter    arrived  ;    I    lost    recollection   for 


46  I&C    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

some  weeks.  I  am  now  sitting  up,  however,  and 
my  father  has  given  me  your  letter.  O  Edward,  had 
it  reached  me  in  time,  I  think  it  might  have  saved  me 
much  suffering.  My  disease  was  more  of  mind  than 
body.  From  what  I  can  learn  of  ol  hers,  I  think  I  must 
have  been  delirious,  and  talked  of  you. 

"  My  father  and  mother  look  sad ;  and  poor  old  Dinah, 
my  faithful  nurse,  says  they  have  been  in  a  '  terrible 
taking'  about  me.  On  asking  her  what  was  said,  she 
replied,  '  Oh!  mas'r  say,  ab'lition,  or  someting  like 
'im,  pizen  yer  rael  bad ;  and  w'en  de  letter  cum,  dey 
look  all  ober  'im  to  see  what  'im  was ;  and  den,  oh ! 
how  yer  mudder  groan,  and  cry ;  and  yer  farder,  he  look 
bad,  an  walk  'bout,  an'  ax  de  doctor  all  'bout  yer.  An' 
one  day  I  hearn  yer  farder  cuss  all  de  pizen  ab'lition 
critturs  dar  was  in  de  world,  an'  den  he  say  good  many 
tings  'bout  you.  Dat  he  rader  all  de  niggers  in  de 
world  die,  den  dat  you  die.  He  terribel  mad  wid  'urn, 
'caze  dey  didn't  stay  in  Africa  whar  dey  b'longs,  an' 
dat  'twas  de  Inglish  did  it ;  an'  he  say,  he  wern't  to 
blame.  And  'im  say  de  min'sters  up  to  de  North  say 
dat  de  Lord  mean  de  niggers  to  be  slaves.  An'  den  he 
git  us  whar  you  can't  har,  an'  wliip  an'  frash  us  dref 'ly. 
He  say,  if  't  warnt  for  de  niggers  you  wodn't  die,  an'  if 
you  did  die,  he'd  'nok  'urn  all  to  hell ;  an'  I  tell  yer, 
Mas'r  Frank,  we 's  drefful  skar'd,  an'  we  all  wish 
young  mas'r  lib  aliens.' 

"  O  Edward !  I  am  too  weak  to  write,  but  you  shall 
have  these  few  lines.  Poor  miserable  beings!  Edward, 
you  know  but  little  about  slavery.  I  shall  fly  from 
here  ;  but  whither  I  know  not.  Oh !  how  I  long  to  see 
you.  I  have  just  perused  your  letter.  I  see  you  point 
and  direct  me  to  God,  through  Christ. 


EDWARD    IN   COLLEGE.  47 

"  Dear  Edward,  I  must  resume  my  pen,  for  I  have 
much  to  tell  you.  I  feel  that  this  land  of  wrong,  of 
whips  and  chains  —  this  land  of  blood,  has  no  God. 

"  Dinah  has  just  entered  my  room  with  my  tea  ;  and 
I  find  I  have  spoken  aloud  what  I  was  writing ;  for  she 
said  — '  Law,  yes,  Mas'r  Frank ;  God  be  here,  he  be 
eb'ry  whar ;  I  knows  'im  har,  'caze  he  hern  me  pray 
great  many  times,  an'  he  bless  my  poor  soul  too.' 

" !  Ah,'  said  I,  '  Dinah,  do  you  pray  ? ' 

" '  O  yes !  Mas'r  Frank,  great  many  times ;  guess  I 
does  pray.' 

"  'And  how  do  you  know  God  hears  your  prayer?' 

""Kaze,  when  my  old  man  tuk  sick,  an'  couldn't 
work  no  more,  and  old  mas'r  swar'd  he  could,  an'  tell 
de  driver  to  whip  him  to  deaf  if  he  didn't  work,  an' 
his  old  back  rael  sore.  Wal,  he  say,  he  wants  to  go  to 
his  Mas'r  in  de  good  world.  Wal,  den  he  ask  me  to 
pray  de  Lord  to  take  him  up  dar,  before  de  cruel 
driver  cum  in  the  mornin'.  Wal,  I  prays  all  night,  an' 
when  de  driver  cum,  swarin'  he'd  break  his  bones  dat 
time,  an'  I 's  right  behind  him,  pray'n  all  detime.  Den 
he  kick  him ;  den  I  say,  mas'r,  he  be  dead !  Den  he 
kick  him  'gin,  an'  den  he  say,  "  Sure  'nuff,  Dinah,  he  be 
dead."     O  Mas'r  Frank,  wusn't  I  happy  den  ? ' 

"  '  And  will  you  pray  for  me,  Dinah  ? '  said  I. 

" '  Oh,  I  does  pray  for  you,  young  Mas'r  Frank,  and  I 
tells  de  Lord  to  let  you  get  well,  and  lib  allers,  'kaze 
you 's  good,  and  so  de  slaves  all  say ;  an'  dey  ail  lub  you 
berry  much.  But,  Mas'r  Frank,  you  pray ;  you  can 
pray  rael  well.' 

" '  But  I  am  afraid  the  Lord  will  not  hear  me  pray,' 
said  I. 

"'O  mercy,  yes!  de  Lord   will  hear  you  right  off, 


48  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

'kaze  you  can  pray  so  good,  an'  'kaze  you  is  white. 
Laws  me !  you  tink  de  Lord  hear  old  Dinah  an'  de 
oder  niggers  pray,  and  nebber  hear  you?  Why  you 
needn't  pray  half  so  hard  —  de  Lord  hear  you  right  off. 
But,  when  my  old  man  die,  I  hab  to  pray  all   night. 

0  dear  !  Why,  laws  sake !  he  hear  you  in  one  minute, 
Mas'r  Frank.' 

"  Well,  Edward,  I  had  faith  in  what  Dinah  said ;  and 
when  Dinah  left  me,  I  tried  to  pray.  But,  alas!  my 
faith  is  not  like  hers ;  it  does  seem  to  me  that  God  is  not 
here.  Pray  for  me,  Edward,  that  I  may  find  him,  and 
that  he  may  give  me  rest — rest  to  my  weary  spirit.     As 

1  said,  I  am  determined  to  fly  from  this  hated  place. 
But  whither  I  know  not.  The  North  can  offer  me 
nothing.  True,  there  are  many  warm  and  noble  spirits 
there ;  but  I  would  sooner  remain  where  I  am.  There 
is  more  guilt  upon  those  there  who  help  to  rivet  the 
chains  of  the  slave ;  for  they  have  more  light,  and 
therefore  are  base,  detestable  hypocrites.  Forgive  me, 
Edward,  if  I  wound  you ;  but  I  must  repeat  it.  Presi- 
dent P ,  and  all  pro-slavery  preachers,  both  North 

and  South,  are  designing  hypocrites  ;  and,  were  I  now 
an  humble  follower  of  Jesus  Christ,  whom  they  insult 
and  blaspheme,  I  would  enter  the  field  against  them. 
I  would,  by  God's  help,  strip  them  of  their  pious  mask, 
and  hold  them  up  to  the  scorn  and  derision  of  the 
world.  Edward,  I  have  been  three  days  writing  this. 
I  believe  my  father  is  afraid  of  my  answering  your  let- 
ter, for  Dinah  informs  me  that  he  questioned  her  upon 
the  subject.  I  will  ride  out  soon,  and  drop  this  letter  in 
the  office  myself.     Pray  for  me,  Edward.     Farewell. 

"  Yours  truly,  Frank  Le  Rux." 

Edward  had  felt  somewhat  uneasy  at  the  commence- 


EDWARD    IN   COLLEGE.  49 

ment  of  reading  this  letter,  on  account  of  his  having 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  Frank's  father,  lest  it  might 
embarrass  his  correspondence  with  Frank.  But,  upon 
perusing  a  copy  of  his  own  former  letter,  preserved  for 
his  mother's  inspection,  his  mind  was  relieved.  Surely, 
thought  he,  it  is  providential  that  the  incendiary  words, 
slave  and  abolition,  were  not  in  my  letter  to  Frank. 

The  autumn  was  approaching,  and  Edward  would 
soon  leave.  Now  was  the  time  to  be  very  busy ;  but  he 
would  write  to  Frank.  We  can  sketch  but  little  of  his 
college  course,  except  to  say,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
any  one  in  the  institution  not  to  respect  him  ;  but  we 
will  give  his  letter  to  Frank. 

H College,  August  — ,  18 — . 

"  My  Dear  Frank,  —  I  long  to  meet  you,  for  it  is 
God  who  has  drawn  my  heart  to  you.  Now,  my  dear 
friend,  in  this  thy  distress,  when  all  is  so  dark,  have 
you  not  great  reason  to  bless  and  praise  your  Father  in 
heaven  ?  You  have  but  to  go  to  him,  cast  your  burden 
upon  him,  and  light  will  beam  upon  you.  He  is  near 
you ;  he  is  waiting  upon  you.  Trust  him  ;  it  is  your 
only  hope.  Acknowledge  him  in  all  your  ways.  Re- 
solve to  do  nothing  but  in  his  strength,  and  he  will 
point  the  way.  Jesus  is  ever  near,  and  he  loves  the 
broken  and  contrite  heart.  Let  his  star  go  before  you 
and  lead  the  way ;  for,  guided  by  Jesus,  we  never  can 
stray. 

"  Oh,  who  can  tell  the  amount  of  good  you  are  des- 
tined to  do  in  this  world  ?  Surely  you  will  recover 
your  health  and  finish  your  studies ;  but,  as  I  have  said, 
let  God  point  the  way. 

"  Write  often,  and  as  long  as  you  please.  Dear 
Frank,  I  sometimes  wish   I  could  bear  your  burden. 


50  THE   CURSE  ENTAILED. 

Our  Saviour  bore  the  burden  and  sin  of  a  world.  Let 
this  teach  us  to  be  humble.  He  will  give  us  grace  to 
bear  our  trials,  if  we  put  our  trust  in  him.  That  you 
may  do  this,  is  the  prayer  of  your  friend. 

"Farewell,         Edward  Le  Clare." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  SERMON  AND  THE  LECTURE. 

Warm  was  the  heart  of  Edward  when  he  embraced 
his  mother.  "  Ah,  my  son,  this  is  but  the  thi|fL  time  in 
three  long  years,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  "  that  you  have 
visited  me.  Oh !  how  wonderfully  God  has  preserved 
us."  She  could  but  gaze  upon  him,  so  manly  had  he 
become  during  his  absence  from  her.  There  he  stood 
before  her,  with  his  high  and  noble  forehead,  she  had 
almost  said,  the  pride  of  her  life ;  but  she  checked  her- 
self, lest  there  might  be  aught  of  sin  in  the  thought, 
and  said,  "  God  be  praised." 

"  And  you,  mother,  seem  to  have  grown  younger  in 
my  absence,"  said  Edward. 

"  I  would  sooner  grow  wiser  than  younger,"  said 
Mrs.  Le  Clare,  with  a  smile.  "  Have  you  no  lessons  to 
give  me  ?     I  at  least  expect  to  hear  all  the  news." 

Edward  smiled  in  return,  as  he  said,  "  Yes,  mother, 
you  shall  not  only  have  all  the  news,  but  all  my 
secrets.     But  is  there  no  news  in  C ?  " 

"  O  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Le  Clare.  "  Two  thirds  of 
our  ladies  have  become  abolitionists ;  they  were,  some 
of  them,  your  schoolmates,  and  some  have  become  res- 
idents of  the  -place  since  you  left.  We  have  also 
formed  a  Ladies'  Anti-slavery  Society,  and  they  have 
been  looking  for  your  return,  with  an  expectation  of 
your  —  of  your  —  " 

.  t61) 


52  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Well,  what,  mother?"  said  Edward. 

"  Why,  I  hardly  know,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  "what 
they  expect  of  you,  unless  it  is  that  you  will  give  them 
an  address ;  but,"  continued  she,  "  as  you  have  now 
become  a  young  man,  you  must  expect  me  to  bring 
you  out." 

"  And  you  will  expect  to  act  as  my  chaperon,  mother," 
said  Edward.  "  Poring  over  musty  books,  and  keeping 
up  with  the  classes,  is  not  the  thing  to  make  a  lady's 
man." 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  you  make  that  remark,"  said 
Mrs.  Le  Clare.  "  I  would  not  for  the  world  have  you 
do  like  too  many  young  men  in  college,  who  leave  their 
college  duties,  and  fritter  away  their  golden  moments 
in  the  society  of  giddy  females,  under  the  delusive  ex- 
pectation that  they  will  get  a  polish  in  manners,  which 
will  be  prized  in  good  society,  while  thereby  they 
render  themselves  useless  through  life." 

Edward  was  warmly  greeted  by  many  an  old  friend. 
Those  whom  he  had  left  as  boys  and  girls  he  now  met 
as  young  gentlemen  and  young  ladies;  some  were 
highly  cultivated. 

"  That  Miss  Erskine  is  quite  intelligent,"  remarked 
Edward  to  his  mother,  one  evening. 

"  She  certainly  is,"  replied  his  mother ;  "  they  have 
been  here  but  six  months.  George  Brownson  was 
somewhat  particular  in  his  attentions  to  her  at  first; 
but,  since  she  became  secretary  of  our  anti-slavery 
society,  he  has  somewhat  neglected  her.  But  I  think 
I  can  discover  that  he  is  the  only  sufferer;  I  am  sure 
that  she  cares  nothing  about  him." 

George  Brownson  was  older  than  Edward  by  two 
years.     They  had  been  intimate  in  their  boyhood ;  but 


THE  SERMON  AND  THE  LECTURE.         53 

George  had  been  in  another  institution,  and  they  had 
seldom  met  for  the  last  three  years.  George  was  now 
at  home,  a  graduate ;  and  Edward  therefore  expected 
that  he  would  call  upon  him. 

"  There  is  something  of  coldness  in  Mr.  Brownson's 
manner  towards  me  of  late,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  as 
Edward  spoke  of  it  to  her;  "  but  I  do  not  suffer  myself 
to  change,  or  harbor  any  unkindness  towards  him." 

On  Sunday,  Edward  and  his  mother  were  early 
occupying  their  usual  seats  in  church. 

As  Mr.  Brownson  passed  up  the  aisle,  Edward 
thought  his  recognition  of  him  was  colder  than  for- 
merly. George  entered  the  house  late,  and  Edward 
was  surprised  at  his  haughty  manner.  He  was  cer- 
tainly very  good  looking ;  but  his  manner  and  dress  were 
evidently  much  studied. 

Mr.  Brownson  labored  hard  in  his  sermon  to  con- 
vince his  hearers  that  the  church  was  in  great  danger 
from  fanaticism.  That  infidelity  was  abroad  in  the 
land,  under  the  guise  of  religion  and  a  meek  philan- 
thropy. Many  had  fallen  victims  —  many  a  young 
man  who  had  promised  fair  was  already  blighted.  All 
must  be  awake,  and  not  suffer  the  unholy  thing  to  come 
among  them.  But  his  words  fell  upon  his  hearers 
powerless.  Oh !  thought  Edward,  "  infidelity"  has 
already  come  —  that  infidelity  which  teaches  us  that 
"we  should  do  unto  others  as  we  would  that  they  should 
do  unto  us."  Ah !  thought  he,  though  your  sermon 
and  prayers  are  long — your  language  high  flown — 
your  Greek  and  Latin  profuse  —  and  your  step  as 
stately  and  haughty  as  ever,  yet  " infidelity"  has  come 
into  thy  church,  and  dares  to  repeat,  "  that  God  has 
made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  the  earth."    That  must 


54  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

be  anew  kind  of  " infidelity"  surely,  that  teaches  thee 
to  love  God  supremely,  and  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 

"  Mr.  Brownson  stands  upon  his  dignity,"  said  Dr. 
Freeman  to  Mr.  Erskine,  "  and  thinks  no  one  will  dare 
dispute  him  —  that  no  one  will  dare  attempt  to  feed  his 
flock ;  but,  if  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,  Edward  Le 
Clare  will  dare  to  do  so ;  for  I  take  him  to  be  one  of 
those  Christian  Infidels,  that  Mr.  Brownson  alluded 
to  in  his  sermon." 

To  the  utter  astonishment  of  Mr.  Brownson,  it 
was  announced  that  Edward  Le  Clare  would  speak 
the  next  evening  upon  the  soul-stirring  subject  of 
American  slavery.  This  was  to  be  done  in  the  very 
pulpit  where  Mr.  Brownson  had  made  such  long 
prayers  the  Sabbath  before.  "  But  who  dared  to  let 
him  have  the  house?"  This  was  Mr.  Brownson's  ques- 
tion to  Mr.  Erskine. 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Erskine,  "  the  vote  of  your 
church  has  been  taken,  and  the  house  is  to  be  used. 
Yes,"  continued  he,  "the  very  man  against  whom 
you  were  warning  your  hearers  is  to  stand  in  your 
pulpit,  and  quote  texts  of  Scripture,  to  make  what  you 
call  Infidels  —  texts  which  you  have  so  little  used,  that 
I  fear  you  have  forgotten  they  are  in  the  Bible." 

Calm  and  manly  stood  Edward  Le  Clare  in  that 
pulpit  at  the  time  appointed.  Many  thought  that  Mr. 
Brownson  would  not  attend.  But  he  and  his  son 
George  were  there,  proud  and  haughty,  hoping  to 
look  Edward  down. 

Edward  commenced ;  but,  in  spite  of  them,  he  was 
calm.  Still  they  frowned ;  but  all  eyes  were  upon  the 
speaker  as  he  portrayed  the  guilt,  the  sin,  the  wrong  of 
slavery.    On,  on,  he  went,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  touch 


THE  SERMON  AND  THE  LECTURE.         55 

the  heart  of  every  hearer.  There  was  a  searching 
power  in  his  words.  Pro-slavery  preachers,  pro-slavery 
churches  were  stripped  of  their  covering,  and  held  up 
to  the  gaze  of  his  audience.  Mrs.  Le  Clare  thought 
his  power  was  not  of  earth.  At  length,  it  seemed  as 
though  the  Spirit  of  love  had  descended  upon  him  — 
all  around  seemed  hallowed.  There  sat  his  hearers, 
gazing  into  his  face,  to  hear  those  facts,  to  catch  those 
eternal  truths,  coming,  as  itVere,  fresh  from  the  meek 
and  lowly,  but  now  triumphant  Saviour.  And  now 
his  feelings  seemed  to  rise  with  his  subject  as  he 
pointed  to  the  remedy ;  and  his  hearers  arose  with  him, 
until  their  aspirations  were  high  and  holy.  Many 
were  convinced  "  of  truth,  righteousness,  and  judgment 
to  come  "  ;  and  upon  their  seats,  with  God  and  angels 
for  their  eternal  witnesses,  they  made  a  firm  resolve 
that,  hereafter  and  forever,  they  would  labor  for  truth 
and  the  oppressed.  At  the  close,  Edward  read  extracts 
from  Frank's  letter.  There  was  scarcely  a  dry  eye  in 
the  house.  Mr.  Brownson  appeared  like  one  taken 
suddenly  ill.  What  he  had  most  dreaded,  had  come 
upon  him ;  and  it  was  noticed  that,  before  he  reached 
home,  he  was  obliged  to  lean  upon  George's  arm. 

"  I  did  not  think,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  next  morning, 
to  Dr.  Freeman,  "  that  Edward  Le  Clare  was  so  elo- 
quent and  powerful  a  speaker.  He  is  destined,  I  think, 
to  fill  some  high  station  in  the  service  of  his  country." 

"  Slavery  must  tremble,"  said  Dr.  Freeman,  "  when 
such  truths  are  proclaimed  by  such  men.  I  think  there 
is  a  power  abroad  in  the  land,  among  our  young  sons 
and  daughters,  that  will  sweep  slavery,  with  the 
'  besom  of  destruction,'  from  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  nation." 


56  THE   CUBSE    ENTAILED. 

Edward  was  to  spend  an  evening  with  a  few  friends 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Erskine.  George  Brownson  was 
there ;  and  he  was,  as  is  sometimes  said  by  the  ladies, 
"in  full  dress";  and  his  manner  seemed  to  say,  "who 
will  dare  dispute  my  right  to  superiority  ? "  "  Ah ! 
sir,"  thought  Ella  Erskine,  "  you  would  have  us  believe 
that  you  belong  to  the  aristocracy." 

But  what  was  it  to  Edward,  if  George  Brownson 
did  put  on  airs,  and  was  pToud  and  haughty  ?  As  to 
Edward  Le  Clare,  he  had  no  pretensions  to  make ; 
he  needed  none ;  for  there  he  was,  in  all  his  moral 
worth  and  nobleness  of  soul,  and  all  loved  and  admired 
him.  *He  saw,  at  one  glance,  that  George  was  his 
enemy.  "  I  would  like,"  thought  he,  "  to  do  him  good ; 
but  he  is  determined  to  hold  himself  aloof  from  me." 
All  seemed  to  wish  to  make  themselves  agreeable. 
George  took  a  seat  by  iftla,  and  held  her  in  conver- 
sation, evidently  endeavoring  to  put  on  a  superiority, 
on  account  of  his  being  a  graduate. 

Edward  and  another  gentleman  were  discussing 
some  political  subject  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
and  there  was  a  difference  of  opinion  upon  some  point 
of  fact. 

"  We  will  refer  it  to  George  Brownson,"  said 
Edward. 

"With  all  due  gravity,  George  decided  against  Ed- 
ward, at  the  same  time  giving  him  a  look  of  contempt, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  have  stopped  your  career." 

This  was  observed  by  Ella,  and  she  said :  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Mr.  Brownson ;  but  Mr.  Le  Clare  is 
right.  I  can  point  you  to  the  fact  at  any  time  when 
you  will  take  the  trouble  to  enter  my  father's  library." 

George  Brownson's  eyes  flashed.     He  was  embar- 


THE  SERMON  AND  THE  LECTURE.         57 

rassed,  and  his  confusion  was  visible  to  the  whole 
company ;  he  fairly  turned  crimson. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Brownson,"  said  Ella,  as  George 
was  leaving ;  "  you  must  be  better  posted  in  politics. 
Call  to-morrow,  at  ten  in  the  morning,  and  my  father 
will  attend  you  in  the  library.  We  have  also  some 
valuable  anti-slavery  works,  just  published,  and  we 
will  be  happy  to  lend  them  to  you,  Mr.  Brownson." 

George  bit  his  lips  with  vexation  as  he  bid  her 
"  good  evening,"  with  a  half-suppressed  answer. 

George  Brownson  really  imagined  he  was  fond  "of 
Ella ;  but  he  was  vexed  that  she  had  dared  to  think 
for  herself,  and  be  an  abolitionist.  "  She  cannot," 
thought  he,  "  be  indifferent  to  my  person.  Then  she  is 
an  only  child,  and  there  is  a  fortune ;  but  I  will  manage 
the  thing;  she  must  first  be  made  to  see  and  feel  my 
superiority." 

"  I  imagine,"  said  Mr.  Erskine  to  Ella,  "  that  George 
Brownson  does  not  believe  in  ladies  understanding 
politics." 

"  But  /  have  a  decided  taste  that  way,"  replied  Ella. 
"  Poor  man ! "  continued  she,  "  the  time  has  passed  for 
his  shining  hypocrisy ;  some  ladies  do  think  for  them- 
selves, and  I  am  one  of  the  number.  If  George  knew 
all  1  think,  it  might,  perhaps,  aid  him  to  cast  off  that 

mask,  and  appear  as  he  really  is." 

****** 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you  this  evening,  mother  ? "  said 

Edward.     "  My  friend,  Frank,  has  sent  me  a  paper." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  trembled  as  she  said  "  Yes." 

Edward  glanced  at  the  paper  a  moment,  and  then 

read  aloud :  «  Died,  of  cholera,  at  Paris,  France,  Mrs. 

Annette  Le  Rux,  wife  of  Edward  Le  Rux,  formerly  a 


58  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

resident  of  this  city."  And  immediately  after  was  the 
following :  "  It  is  rumored  that  Mr.  Le  Rux  is  in  a 
decline,  and  will  immediately  sail  for  America  with 
his  family." 

An  exclamation,  "  O  God ! "  came  from  Mrs.  Le 
Clare ;  and,  as  Edward  turned,  she  fell  senseless  upon 
the  floor. 

"  Father  in  heaven !  help ! "  said  Edward,  as  Mrs. 
Wise  entered  the  room.  She  had  heard  the  words 
spoken  by  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  and  the  fall,  and.  instantly 
entered  with  restoratives.  The  blood  was  streaming 
from  Mrs.  Le  Clare's  mouth  and  nose. 

"  My  mother  is  dead ! "  cried  Edward,  as  he  assisted 
Mrs.  Wise  to  place  her  upon  the  bed. 

Richard  was  immediately  dispatched  for  Dr.  Free- 
man. Mrs.  Wise  and  Edward  used  all  their  exertions 
to  restore  her  to  consciousness ;  and,  before  the  doctor 
arrived,  she  had  opened  her  eyes,  but  instantly  closed 
them  again. 

Dr.  Freeman  was  much  alarmed.  "  She  must  be 
kept  perfectly  quiet,  and  carefully  watched,"  said  he, 
"  for  fear  of  a  return  of  the  bleeding.  She  must  not 
be  permitted  to  converse." 

The  third  day  found  Mrs.  Le  Clare  better.  Edward 
had  scarcely  left  her  bedside.  On  the  fourth  day,  Dr. 
Freeman  informed  Edward  that  he  had  some  hope  of 
her  recovery,  but  that  it  depended  upon  her  not  over- 
exerting herself.  On  the  fifth  day,  Ella  came.  Mrs. 
Wise  was  not  well,  and  Edward  was  nearly  worn  out ; 
she,  therefore,  proposed  remaining  with  them  a  few 
days.  This  was  said  in  the  presence  of  Dr.  Freeman, 
and  he  made  an  effort  to  find  out  whether  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  Mrs.  Le  Clare.     Although  her  eyes  were 


THE  SERMON  AND  THE  LECTURE.         59 

closed,  it  was  evident  she  had  heard  the  conversation ; 
for.  as  he  approached  close  to  the  bed,  she  said :  "  Yes, 
yes  ;  God  bless  her !  " 

At  the  expiration  of  one  week,  Mrs.  Le  Clare  was 
able  to  answer  all  necessary  questions  without  danger 
to  herself.  Edward  saw  her  eyes  often  fixed  upon  him 
with  a  mournfulness  of  expression  that  went  to  his 
heart.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks  she  sat  up,  and  Ed- 
ward again  read  to  her  words  of  comfort  from  the 
Psalms. 

"  You  have  been  a  most  excellent  nurse,"  said  she  to 
Ella,  as  she  was  about  taking  her  leave ;  then  added, 
"  God  will  reward  you  a  thousand  fold."  And  so 
thought  Edward.  "  You  see  I  am  gaining  fast,"  said 
Mrs.  Le  Clare  to  Edward.  "  How  long  have  you  been 
at  home,  my  son  ?  I  find  I  have  made  no  account  of 
time." 

•  "  It  is  but  two  weeks,"  replied  he,  "  before  the  com- 
mencement of  next  term." 

"  You  see  that  you  will  have  to  make  your  own 
arrangements.  I  am  now  able  to  be  left  alone ;  you 
will,  therefore,  take  all  the  time  you  need,"  said  Mrs. 
Le  Clare. 

Edward  tried  to  command  himself ;  but,  in  spite  of 
all  his  efforts,  he  trembled.     Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  calm. 

"  I  read  your  feelings  in  your  countenance,  my  son ; 
but  I  shall  be  better  before  you  leave.  Be  comforted, 
my  son ;  you  know  not  how  unhappy  it  would  make 
me  to  have  your  time  encroached  upon  in  tho  least." 

Edward  complied  with  her  request,  and  made  such 
arrangements  as  were  necessary  for  his  departure. 
Mrs.  Le  Clare  did  not  in  the  least  refer  to  the  past, 
and  Edward  dared  not.     Dr.  Freeman  called  often  to 


60  THE    '  I  R8E    EMAILED. 

inquire  after  Mrs.  Le  Clare's  health ;  and,  the  day  before 
Edward's  departure,  he  pronounced  her  out  of  danger. 

"  I  think  she  can  ride  with  me  this  afternoon,"  said 
Edward,  "  to  stimulate  me  in  my  leave-taking." 

"  If  you  are  going  to  take  leave  of  Ella  Erskine," 
said  the  doctor,  "  you  had  better  take  me  also ;  I  fear 
you  will  need  more  stimulus  than  your  mother  can 
give  you." 

"  Nothing  more  than  the  assurance  I  have  of  Ella's 
worth,"  replied  Edward. 

"  Such  women  as  Ella  will  stimulate  any  young 
man  to  nobleness,"  said  .Mrs.  Le  Clare. 

"It  is  only  when  she  greets  them  with  a  smile,  and 
they  can  bask  in  the  approving  light  of  her  coun- 
tenance," said  the  doctor ;  "  for  I  do  not  see  that 
George  Brownson  is  growing  nobler." 

Edward  met  with  a  warm-hearted  good-bye  from 
all  upon  whom  he  called.  "  I  will  see  your  mother 
often,"  said  Ella ;  "  she  shall  not  miss  you  when  I  am 
with  her,  I  assure  you." 

The  farewell  was  taken,  and  Edward  and  his  mother 
left.  Ella  was  sure  that  Edward  was  good  ;  she  would 
be  i^lad  when  he  returned  again,  for  it  was  hard  for  his 
mother  to  part  with  him.  And  now,  indeed,  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  was  more  lonely  than  ever  betore.  Edward  had 
been  more  active,  and  had  seemed  more  like  a  prop  to 
her  than  at  any  other  period  of  his  life.  Ella  was  true 
to  her  promise,  and  spent  many  hours  with  her  every 
week. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    CORRESPONDENCE. 

While  Edward  Le  Clare  is  again  poring  over 
books,  and  passing  through  the  usual  routine  of  a 
student's  life,  we  will  go  to  the  South,  and  look  in 
upon  Frank  Le  Rux.  He  is  alone  and  thoughtful. 
Suddenly  rising  to  his  feet,  and  pacing  the  room,  he 
said  aloud :  "  No,  I  will  not  go  and  leave  her.  .  Her 
soul  revolts  at  this  horrid  thing  of  slavery.  I  will 
stand  by  her ;  I  will  stay  with  her.  She  may,  perhaps, 
do  my  mother  good."  And,  taking  his  pen,  he  wrote 
to  Edward  as  follows : 

"New  Orleans,  October  1,  18 — . 

"Dear  Edward, —  By  reckoning  time,  I  find  that 
you  have  probably  returned  to  college.  I  had  thought 
of  meeting  you  there ;  but  it  seems  that  God  otherwise 
wills.  My  health  is  yet  poor.  My  father  is  not  much 
inclined  to  have  me  return  North.  Edward,  I  have 
found  the  rest  of  which  you  spoke ;  peace  has  taken 
possession  of  my  soul ;  when  I  say  peace,  I  mean  so 
far  as  it  is  possible,  where  I  am  obliged  to  witness  so 
much  that  is  wrong.  I  have  opened  my  mind  freely  to 
my  father  in  regard  to  slavery.  He  would  fain  have 
me  believe  that  the  slaves  are  better  off  as  they  are. 
He  is,  I  think,  under  some  restraint ;  he  is  fearful  that  I 
will  leave  him.,  I  have  much  more  to  write,  but  desire 
my  mind  to  gather  strength. 

"  I  have  a  friend  here  now.     She  has  but  lately  re- 
ft (61) 


62  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

turned  from  France,  whither  she  went  with  her  father, 
in  her  childhood.  Slavery  is  new  to  her,  and  her  soul 
detests  it.  They  will  have  hard  work  to  make  her  free 
spirit  bow  to  Southern  institutions.  She  appears  to  me 
to  be  the  purest  being  to  be  conceived  of  upon  earth. 
She  soars  so  high,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  follow 
her  in  her  upward  flights.  No  matter  where  she  is,  if 
among  the  slaves,  she  is  talking  of  freedom.  If  with 
my  father,  she  is  talking  of  God's  will  to  man  ;  of  his 
design  in  creating  him  and  placing  him  upon  this  earth ; 
of  studying  nature,  and  of  the  future  destiny  of  the 
the  race.  My  father,  I  know,  thinks  her  the  most  un- 
accountable being  in  the  world ;  and  she  seems  to  me 
to  have  a  hold  upon  his  feelings  which  he  cannot 
account  for.  Her  father  seems  melancholy ;  and, 
although  he  loves  her  ardently,  he  will  gaze  upon  her 
mournfully,  while  often  I  have  seen  the  tears  course 
down  his  cheeks. 

"  I  will  write  you  again  soon,  after  receiving  an 
answer  to  this.  Pray  for  me,  Edward,  and  for  my 
parents.     Farewell. 

"  Yours,  etc.,  Frank  Le  Rux." 

RDWABD    TO    1KANK. 

"My  Dear  Frank,  —  Man's  accountability  to  his 
Maker  is  but  little  felt  and  realized  in  this  world  of 
wrong.  Holier,  purer,  should  we  become  every  day  of 
our  lives.  There  is  that  in  the  mind  of  man,  which,  if 
not  poisoned  by  evil,  would  raise  him  above  the  sordid 
iliings  of  earth,  which  so  tend  to  bind  him  down. 

"  Selfishness  is,  in  most  minds,  paramount  to  every- 
thing else.  Oh !  it  is  this  which  kills.  '  To  do  unto 
others  as  we  would  that  Ihry  should  do  unto  us,'  a1  all 


THE    CORRESPONDENCE.  63 

times,  and  under  all  circumstances,  is  the  food  which 
gives  the  true  life  within  us.  But,  oh  !  how  many  feed 
only  upon  husks  ? 

"  In  vain  I  turn  to  man  for  support.  I  am  obliged  to 
keep  the  stream  of  communication  open  between  my 
spirit  and  the  Father  of  spirits,  or  I  should  famish. 
Thus  may  it  be  with  you,  my  brother.  Commune 
with  your  own  spirit,  and  you  will  always  find  your 
soul  refreshed.  You  will  grow  stronger  and  stronger 
every  step  you  take.  Then  fear  not  to  meet  a  host  who 
do  battle  against  the  right.  Standing  as  you  do  now, 
surrounded  with  the  Goliah  of  slavery,  I  think  you  can 
only  use  the  sling ;  but  if  your  trust  be  in  the  living 
God,  and  he  directs  your  aim,  you  will  give  a  deadly 
blow  to  the  enemy.  Despise  not  the  day  of  small 
things,  nor  run  before  you  are  sent.  God  has  a  work 
for  you  to  do,  and  he  will  point  the  way. 

"  I  am  much  interested  in.  the  account  you  give  of 
the  young  lady.  Perhaps  she  is  sent  to  become  a 
co-worker  with  you  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord.  Write 
me  soon. 

"  Farewell.  Edward." 

It  was  the  winter  of  1850.  Congress  was  in  session ; 
the  Fugitive  Bill  had  been  introduced  into  Congress. 
Good  men  trembled ;  Northern  doughfaces  were  on 
hand  to  be  bought. 

Mrs.  Le  Clare  received  the  Liberator ;  but  Edward 
did  not  know  with  what  feelings  she  perused  it.  Thus 
wrote  Edward  to  his  mother  on  this  subject : 

"  They  dare  not  do  the  unholy  thing.  It  would  curse 
the  natipn  ;  it  would  make  a  human  hunting  ground  of 
the  North,  where  thieves  and  robbers  might  stalk  at 
large,  in  broad  day,  and  command  our  Northern  free- 


64  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

men  to  help  them  to  hunt  down  the  panting  fugitive, 
who  was  made  in  the  image  of  his  God,  but  whom 
they  have  converted  into  a  thiifg.  It  cannot  be !  Our 
country  is  already  a  hissing  and  a  byword  among  the 
nations ! 

"  But  her  young  sons  and  daughters  are  aroused,  and 
will  redeem  the  character  of  the  nation,  by  dealing 
justly,  and  loving  mercy.  The  oppressed  shall  go  free, 
and  rise  up  and  call  them  blessed.  Yes,  my  mother,  if 
this  unholy  bill  is  passed,  the  oppressed  will  yet  arise 
in  their  strength  and  put  off  the  yoke.  Then  will  there 
be  weeping  and  wailing  through  the  nation,  and  the 
land  shall  'mourn  for  the  desolation  which  has  come 
upon  her.' 

"  Does  not  our  Douglas  warm  your  heart,  dear 
mother,  with  his  eloquence,  as  you  read  his  speeches  in 
the  Liberator  ?  I  have  seen  him,  and  heard  him  speak. 
There  is  a  living  power  in  his  words,  —  there  is  a  holy 
fire  in  his  soul,  which  sends  the  burning  torch  of  truth 
into  the  hearts  of  all  those  who  are  not  bowed  low  be- 
fore the  demon  slavery. 

"  Oh !  that  men  would  arise  and  learn  to  know  them- 
selves. But  let  us  not  dwell  upon  the  dark  side,  mother. 
It  will  be  as  you  have  said  —  slavery  will  be  done 
away.  God  sees  and  abhors  human  oppression.  Hu- 
man brotherhood  will  triumph.  Let  us  pray  much, 
dear  mother. 

"  I  am  your  Edward." 

Thus  had  and  still  thought.  INIrs.  Le  Clare;  but 
there  was  an  anxiety  upon  her  mind  which  she  could 
not  overcome.  She  trembled  at  the  receipt  of  every 
new  paper ;  and  Mrs.  Wise,  without  knowing  the 
cause,  felt  lhat  she  was  suffering  much.     True,  some- 


TFIE   CORRESPONDENCE.  65 

times  she  was  cheerful,  but  at  others  she  could  hardly 
force  a  smile.  Ella  saw  her  oftener  than  during  the 
first  weeks  of  Edward's  absence ;  but,  in  spite  of  all 
her  efforts,  Mrs.  Le  Clare  became  more  and  more  ab- 
stracted. Ella  had  learned  to  love  her,  and  was  alarmed 
at  her  appearance. 

"  You  are  really  very  ill,"  said  she  one  day  to  her. 
"  Have  you  informed  Edward  of  the  state  of  your 
health?" 

"  I  have  not  as  yet  thought  it  necessary  to  do  so," 
replied  Mrs.  Le  Clare.  "  It  would  only  give  him 
anxiety,  and  serve  to  retard  him  in  his  studies,  which 
would  distress  me  exceedingly.  I  am  not  aware  of 
any  immediate  danger  in  my  case.  It  will  be  time 
enough  to  distress  him  when  such  appears  to  be  the 
fact." 

6* 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

FRANK    LE    RUX    AND    HIS    COUSIN    EMILY. 

Seated  in  an  elegantly  furnished  parlor,  in  the  vicinity 
of  New  Orleans,  sat  Frank  Le  Rux  and  his  cousin, 
Emily  Le  Rux.  She  is  the  young  lady  of  whom 
Frank  had  written  to  Edward  in  his  last  letter.  They 
were  both  silent  and  thoughtful.  Miss  Le  Rux's  hand 
was  pressed  upon  her  heart.  Occasionally  she  drew  a 
long  breath ;  and,  as  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  her 
head  bowed  lower  and  lower,  until  it  rested  upon  her 
other  hand. 

Suddenly,  Frank  arose  and  paced  the  room,  appar- 
ently in  agony,  while,  occasionally,  his  eyes  were  lifted 
to  heaven. 

Each  seemed  unconscious  of  the  other's  presence. 
Suddenly  Miss  Le  Rux  sprang  from  her  seat,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  '  No  way !  No  law !  No  hope  but  in  God,'  did 
he  say?  Then,  there  can  be  no  God!  It  is  all  a 
mockery,  and  I  shall  become  an  Infidel." 

Frank  turned,  as  the  words  sounded  in  his  ears ;  and, 
as  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  he  said,  in  a  soothing  man- 
ner, though  so  mournfully  that  it  sounded  to  Emily  as 
if  from  the  grave:  "No  God!  No  God!  my  dear 
cousin  ?  " 

"  If  what  you  say  be  true,"  replied  Emily,  "  there  is, 
there  can  be,  none,  or  he  would  rend  the  heavens  and 
come  down.     But  I   shall  reave  this  house  of  crime, 

(661 


FRANK. AND    HIS    COUSIN.  (iT 

and  quit  this  place  of  blood!  Better  dwell  among 
strangers,  or  in  the  wilderness,  with  poverty,  or  distress 
of  any  kind,  as  our  portion.  Yes,  Frank,"  she  continued, 
while  a  fire  kindled  in  her  eye ;  "  these  hands  can  earn 
my  daily  bread,  or,  if  need  be,  I  will  beg  sooner  than 
witness  such  cruelty.  Oh !  I  would  sooner  die  a 
thousand  deaths  than  again  see  what  I  have  seen  for 
the  last  few  hours." 

"  Cousin,"  said  Frank,  "  I  have  felt  all  that  you  now 
feel.  Ah  more !  I  have  felt  until  life  became  a  bur- 
den, and  I  longed  for  death.  I  have  spent  wearisome 
days  and  sleepless  nights ;  I  have  spent  hours,  wander- 
ing I  hardly  knew  where,  that  I  might  escape  from  the 
sight  of  the  accursed  thing ;  I  have  been  sick,  and 
raved  in  my  delirium ;  I  have  felt  that  there  was  no 
God,  at  least,  that  there  was  none  in  this  place ;  and 
yet  I  am  now  here,  to  tell  you  there  is  a  God,  for  I  feel 
Him  here,"  (and  he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  heart.) 
"  Yes,  Emily ;  there  is  a  holy,  just,  and  pure  God,  and 
he  will  avenge  all  wrong ;  for  he  has  said,  '  vengeance 
is  mine.'  I  tremble  for  this  guilty  land !  I  tremble  not 
only  for  the  South,  but  for  the  North ;  for  she  is  equally 
guilty  in  sustaining  this  accursed  system  of  human 
slavery.  But,  Emily,  I  repeat  it,  there  is  a  prayer-hear- 
ing and  prayer-answering  God.  I  have  found  him, 
Emily,  and  he  has  been  my  support  in  many  a  trying 
hour." 

Emily  was  silent  for  a  minute,  and  then  said,  "  I 
have  been  too  hasty,  Frank ;  I  was  taught  but  little  of 
religion  in  my  childhood ;  but  I  never  could  bear  oppres- 
sion. I  have  read  my  Bible,  and  believe  we  are  bound 
to  do  right  according  to  the  best  of  our  ability.  It  is 
not  right  for  me  to  remain  an  inmate  of  this,  or  any 


68  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED, 

other  house,  and  be  silent  when  I  witness  such  injus- 
tice. Why  my  father  is  so  silent  upon  the  subject,  I 
know  not.  His  only  answer  to  me,  when  I  speak  to 
him  upon  the  subject,  is,  '  You  must  shut  your  eyes 
and  ears,  my  daughter,  to  these  things.  They  exist  all 
through  the  South.  We  are  here,  and  here  we  must 
remain ;  at  least,  until  my  health  is  restored.  I  do 
greatly  desire,  yes,  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  for  your 
own,  as  well  as  my  happiness,  that  you  do  not  inter- 
fere with  their  affairs.     Your  uncle  must  love  you.' " 

Emily  was  silent  a  minute,  and  then  continued: 
"  Frank,  I  have  prayed,  if  lifting  the  heart  above,  and 
asking  a  higher  Being  than  ourselves  to  keep  us  in  the 
path  of  virtue,  be  prayer.  I  have  always  believed  in  a 
God,  that  from  him  I  received  all  my  blessings.  And 
often,  yes,  very  often,  for  the  last  four  years  of  my  life, 
have  I  felt  that  my  spirit  communed  with  him.  I  have 
viewed  him  in  everything  —  in  the  flowers,  in  the  trees,  in 
the  murmuring  streams,  and  in  the  rolling  thunders.  I 
have  praised  him,  and  felt  that  I  was  happy.  My  step- 
mother, for  you  doubtless  know,"  continued  she,  "that  I 
lost  my  own  mother  when  I  was  a  child,  was  a  woman 
of  pleasure.  Her  father  was  rich,  but  altogether  of  a 
different  turn  of  mind  from  his  child.  My  father, 
though  at  times  melancholy,  was  proud  of  my  mother. 
He  never  denied  her  anything.  He  was  very  fond  of 
me,  and  strove  for  my  happiness.  I  believe  my  mother 
loved  me  also,  for  she  always  treated  me  with  the  ut- 
most kindness.  It  was  evidently  a  grief  to  her,  how- 
ever, that  I  had  not  the  same  tastes  as  herself.  Often 
have  I  attended  her  and  my  father  in  their  round  of 
pleasure,  because  I  knew  it  was  their  wish,  when  my 
heart  was  not  in    it.  and    T  would    much  rather  have 


FRANK    AND    HIS    COUSIN.  69 

been  at  home  alone,  or  with  my  grandfather,  to  whom 
I  am  indebted  for  all  the  high  aspirations  of  my  soul. 
I  was  sometimes  much  flattered,  but  never  thought 
myself  much  admired.  Frank,"  she  continued,  "  I 
never  make  a  firm  resolution  that  I  will  do  a  thing 
until  I  am  convinced  I  am  right ;  or,  as  I  think,  looked 
up  into  heaven,  and  something  seems  to  whisper  me  it 
is  right ;  then  it  is  registered  in  my  own  heart,  and,  as 
I  have  believed,  above.  Then  I  resolve,  and  keep  my 
resolution." 

Frank  was  distressed;  and,  in  that  state  of  mind,  he 
wrote  as  follows  to  Edward : 

"  How  consoling  would  it  be  to  me,  my  dear  Ed- 
ward, could  I  this  moment  pour  out  my  whole  soul  to 
you  —  you,  who  have  been  the  instrument,  in  the  hands 
of  God,  of  pointing  me  above.  But,  Edward,  I  am 
distressed  beyond  measure.  Oh !  would  that  I  could 
understand  my  duty  in  all  things.  I  have  a  new  cause 
of  distress  —  my  dear  cousin  Emily,  of  whom  I  spoke 
in  my  last.  Well,  it  is  as  I  suggested ;  they  cannot, 
they  never  will  be  able  to  bring  her  noble  spirit  to  bow 
down  and  be  silent  at  the  cruelty  and  oppression  which 
she  is  obliged  to  witness  every  day  while  an  inmate 
of  this  house.  Her  father  seems  as  if  thrown  upon  us 
for  the  present.  He  is  a  younger  brother  of  my 
father's,  who  has  spent  several  years  in  France,  where 
his  wife  died.  My  father  seems  fond  of  him ;  but  he 
is  in  very  feeble  health,  and,  I  think,  melancholy  —  at 
least,  he  is  abstracted.  I  fancy  he  is  no  friend  to  our 
peculiar  institution;  but  he  maintains  a  perfect  silence 
in  regard  to  it.  He  is,  I  think,  constrained  in  all  his 
movements.     I  cannot  but  observe  him  narrowly ;  and, 


70  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

as  he  refuses  medical  advice,  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  his  disease  is  more  of  mind  than  body. 

"  But,  Edward,  we  have  had  a  scene,  and  such  a 
scene !  I  thought  to  have  wrote  it  out  before,  but  my 
heart  and  hand  seemed  to  refuse.  My  father  brought 
home  a  very  light  mulatto  girl,  about  seventeen  years 
of  age.  She  had  been  a  house-servant  in  one  of  the 
best  families  in  the  city,  and  much  petted  by  her 
mistress,  who  died  about  one  year  ago,  leaving  the 
request  that  she  might  never  be  sold.  Her  master,  Mr. 
Devony,  took  it  into  his  head  to  marry  again.  His 
wife  proved  much  the  reverse  in  disposition  to  the 
former  mistress — very  cruel  to  the  slaves.  Julia  would 
not  brook  it.  Mrs.  Devony  had  brought  a  house- 
servant  of  her  own,  and  poor  Julia  was  turned  over  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  the  overseer,  for  a  field  hand. 
There  she  was  unmanageable  —  spending  her  time  in 
weeping,  and,  of  course,  falling  behind  the  other  hands. 
Well,  as  I  said,  my  father  bought  her ;  and  here,  also, 
she  was  turned  over  to  the  overseer. 

"  Emily  was  much  interested  in  the  girl,  and  had  had 
several  conversations  with  her.  It  seems  that  the 
overseer  had  offered  her  some  insult,  at  which  she  was 
very  indignant.  This  she  had  communicated  to 
Emily,  and  she  was  on  the  look-out. 

"  Emily  and  myself  were  sitting  on  the  veranda, 
about  ten  in  the  evening.  The  moon  was  at  her  full, 
when  we  heard  screams  in  the  direction  of  the  negroes' 
quarters. 

" '  Villain ! '  said  Emily,  as  she  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  flew,  almost  with  the  speed  of  lightning,  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  screams  proceeded.  I  fol- 
lowed, but  she  was  there  before  me.     When  I  arrived, 


FBANK  AND   HIS   COUSIN.  71 

Julia  was  lying  on  the  ground,  about  one  rod  from 
the  door ;  and  in  the  cabin  was  Emily,  with  a  club  in 
her  hand,  with  which  she  had  felled  the  overseer  to  the 
ground.  He  was  partially  intoxicated,  and  was  lying 
upon  his  face.  As  we  turned  to  lift  up  the  girl,  Julia, 
we  beheld  my  father ;  he  was  pale ;  but  I  knew  not 
whether  from  anger,  or  from  what  cause. 

"  '  You  can  retire,  Miss  Le  Rux,'  said  he. 

"  But  Emily  had  already  the  head  of  the  poor  girl 
in  her  lap ;  and,  without  noticing  my  father's  remarks, 
commenced  chafing  her  hands,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
saying, '  Water,  Frank !  water ! ' 

"  This  was  brought,  and  poured  into  her  mouth,  and 
over  her.  She  revived,  opened  her  eyes,  looked  at 
Emily,  and  said, '  Death !  death ! ' 

"'Yes,'  said  Emily,  'death  before '     She  stopped; 

but,  oh !  how  her  eyes  flashed  as  she  fixed  them  upon 
my  father.  I  know  not  what  he  felt,  but  he  did  not 
speak. 

"  By  this  time,  the  slaves  had  some  of  them  gathered 
on  the  spot ;  and  Emily,  without  even  looking  at  my 
father,  said,  with  a  firm  voice :  '  Take  Julia  to  my 
chamber.'  Still  my  father  spoke  not.  Two  of  the 
negroes  took  up  Julia,  and  Emily  led  the  way  to  the 
house. 

"  I  was  left  alone  with  my  father.  He  folded  his 
arms,  and,  for  some  minutes,  paced  back  and  forth. 
His  appearance  betrayed  contending  emotions.  Oh! 
how  I  longed  to  hear  him  speak  words  of  right.  I 
gazed  upon  him ;  I  tried  to  lift  up  my  heart  in  his 
behalf;  but  an  agony  was  in  my  soul,  and  I  only 
groaned  in  spirit.  At  length,  he  turned  to  enter  the 
cabin,  and,  as  he  passed  me,  said :  '  I  can  dispense 


72  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

with  your  company,  sir.'  And  then  muttered  to 
himself,  '  She  —  ah  !    She  dare  —  ah !  lady  —  French 

education  —  high    life  —  airs  —  she  —  she    can ' 

And  his  words  died  away  as  he  entered  the  cabin. 
"  Slowly  I  went  to  my  room,  and  spent  such  a  night ! 

0  Edward,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  it !  Suffice 
it  to  say,  my  room  joined  Emily's ;  I  could  hear  her 
pace  the  room ;  I  could  hear  the  groans  of  the  poor 
slave  girl,  and  I  could  hear  Emily's  in  return.  I  could 
hear  her  as  she  passed  out  and  in,  and  down  the  stairs, 
to  procure  such  restoratives  for  Julia  as  were  necessary. 

1  trembled  lest,  upon  my  father's  return,  he  would  go 
to  the  room ;  but  I  was  relieved  when,  at  about  eleven 
o'clock,  he  entered  the  house,  and  went  straight  to  his 
own  room. 

"  Emily  appeared  at  breakfast  as  usual.  My  father 
did  not  give  her  the  usual  '  good  morning,'  but 
remained  silent  during  the  meal.  Emily  apologized 
for  the  absence  of  her  father.  *  He  was  not  well  —  she 
would  take  him  his  coffee.'  Oh !  could  you  have 
seen  with  what  dignity  she  met  my  father's  offended 
look.  Her  eyes  betrayed  a  sleepless  night,  and  were 
somewhat  reddened  by  weeping.  O  Edward,  heaven 
was  in  that  face.  '  She  has  surely,'  thought  I,  '  been 
strengthened  from  above.'  It  appeared  to  me  that  she- 
was  about  to  be  offered  up  for  her  poor  victim,  and  that 
she  was  ready.  I  tried  to  pray  that '  the  bitter  cup 
might  pass.' 

"  I  have  learned  from  Joe  that  Julia  had  a  terrible 
struggle  with  the  overseer;  that  she  fought  him  until 
exhausted ;  that,  getting  the  advantage  for  the  moment, 
she  gave  the  screams,  and  fled  from  the  cabin ;  that  he 
again  seized  and  choked  her;  that,  on  our  approach. 


FKANK   AND   HIS   COUSIN.  73 

he  let  go  his  hold,  and  she  fell  upon  the  ground,  where 
we  found  her. 

"  I  had  an  interview  with  Emily  to-day ;  she  is  in 
great  agitation.  I  know  not  what  will  be  the  end  of 
these  things.  My  health  is  yet  impaired.  My  letter  is 
long,  but  I  hardly  know  when  to  close.  There  is  a 
comfort  in  writing  to  you  which  I  find  in  nothing  else, 
except  communing  with  my  God.  Farewell,  dear 
Edward.  Pray  for  us  all ;  pray,  for  I  know  you  have 
access  to  the  throne  of  grace.  I  know  that  with  you 
prayer  is  not  a  mockery.  The  farewell  lingers,  but  I 
must  say  it.  Frank  Le  Rux." 

And  what  were  Edward  Le  Clare's  feelings  as  he 
perused  this  letter  ?  For  a  few  minutes  he  seemed  to 
stand  side  by  side  with  Frank,  in  the  room  with  Emily, 
gazing  upon  that  noble-minded  but  broken-hearted 
girl,  and  bending  with  them  over  her  couch,  to  offer 
words  of  comfort  and  hope,  while  he  pointed  to  the 
North,  telling  her  to  fly.  And  then  his  mind  reverted 
to  the  accursed  Fugitive  Bill  before  Congress.  And 
he  seemed  to  stand  with  those  who  were  discussing 
that  bill,  pointing  them  to  this  very  scene,  and  calling 
upon  them  by  their  manhood;  and  then  came  the 
thought,  they  have  none.  Again,  from  this,  he  seemed 
pointing  them  to  the  final  scene,  where  they  would 
meet  this,  their  sister,  in  another  world.  "  Conscience," 
thought  he,  "  they  have  none.  Hope,"  thought  he, 
"  there  is  none.  O  guilty  nation ! "  he  exclaimed, 
"  guilt  is  in  all  thy  borders !  Corruption  and  debauchery 
is  in  the  hearts  of  thy  rulers.  Thy  sanctuaries  are 
defiled  by  those  who  should  break  the  bread  of  life  to 
the  starving.     Rise  !  rise  ! "  he  said,  as  he  paced  the 


74  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

room.  "  Rise  in  thy  strength,  all  ye  who  love  mercy, 
and  would  deal  justly."     At  length  he  said, 

" '  Up  to  the  work  !     Oppression  bold  is  stalking  through  our  land  ! 
Up  to  the  rescue !  one  and  all,  and  form  a  mighty  band. 
Gird  on  the  armor  of  the  Lord ;  then  we  are  sure  to  win. 
No  longer  let  us  yield  the  power  to  those  who  live  by  sin.' 

Work  manfully  in  the  great  cause,  and  the  Lord  will 
be  thy  strength." 

At  length  he  became  calm ;  but  what  could  he  say 
to  Frank  ?  How  could  he  comfort  him  ?  But  he 
would  write. 

"  Dear  Frank, —  I  do  indeed  pity  you,  and  Emily, 
your  cousin.  You,  doubtless,  suffer  much.  But  what 
are  your  sufferings  compared  with  that  poor  sufferer, 
the  slave  girl,  Julia  ?  And  then  to  think  that  there  are 
thousands  in  similar  circumstances  —  those,  too,  for 
whom  Christ  died  —  his  own  redeemed  ones.  I  wish 
to  possess  the  peaceful  spirit  of  Him  of  whom  I 
Bpeak ;  and  yet  I  sometimes  feel  as  if,  should  this 
accursed  Fugitive  Bill  pass  the  House,  I  would  fight 
With  carnal  weapons.  I  long  to  have  you  come  North. 
You  might  do  much  good  here  lecturing;  but  you 
cannot  leave  Emily;  and  her  father,  you  say,  is  ill. 
Well,  I  can  offer  you  no  advice,  except  to  stand  fast  in 
tli"  strength  of  the  Lord,  and  let  him  point  the  way. 

"  You  say  nothing  of  your  mother's  feelings  in 
regard  to  Julia's  case.  It  seems  strange  to  me  that 
women  do  not  arouse  themselves  to  the  wrongs  in- 
flicted upon  their  own  sex.  Are  the  hearts  of  the 
mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  daughters  of  the  South 
'  clean  gone  forever  ? '  Are  all  their  nobler  feelings 
prostituted  to  the  sustaining  of  such  damnable  wrongs? 
Dear  Frank, do  they  not  blush  at  such  acts?     Why  not 


FKANK   AND   HIS   COUSIN.  75 

put  sackcloth  and  ashes  upon  their  heads,  and  go 
mourning  all  the  day  long,  in  view  of  their  humiliation 
and  shame  ?  Methinks,  my  dear  Frank,  there  can  be 
no  true  virtue  in  the  South.  How  long  would  it  take 
to  undo  this  abomination,  if  the  hearts  of  all  the 
ivomen  were  aroused  and  right  ?  How  dare  they  thus 
be  still?  How  dare  they  look  in  the  face  of  a  world? 
But  still  more,  how  dare  they  look  in  the  face  of  their 
Maker?  Do  slaveholding  women  ever  attempt  to 
pray?  'Tis  mockery.  What!  ask  for  salvation,  and 
live  with  such  a  sin  resting  upon  their  guilty  souls  ? 
Do  they  dare  to  die  ?  No,  they  dare  not,  unless  they 
expect  to  meet  only  a  God  of  slavery,  corruption,  and 
licentiousness.  No,  I  repeat,  they  have  an  imaginary 
God ;  but,  let  them  have  but  one  glimpse  of  the  true 
God  —  of  his  character,  his  holiness,  his  purity,  his  jus- 
tice— and  'despair  would  seize  upon  them';  their 
strength  would  utterly  fail  them;  they  would  'cry 
mightily  unto  the  Lord',  until  they  saw  the  accursed 
thing  done  away  from  among  them.  O  Frank,  would 
that  the  women  of  America  might  consider,  and  learn 
for  what  they  were  created! — that  it  was  for  immor- 
tality —  that  the  slave-women  are  their  sisters,  created 
like  them,  in  the  image  of  their  Maker  —  that  they 
must  meet  them  in  eternity,  and  give  an  account  of  all 
which  they  have  done  unto  them !  Let  the  women  of 
the  South  remember  that  there  is  no  'peculiar  institu- 
tion'' in  heaven,  and  that  however  much  ministers  may 
preach  smooth  things  to  them  here,  yet  'to  their  own 
Master  they  must  stand  or  fall.' 

"  Northern  doughfaces  and  pro-slavery  ministers  will 
be  dumb  there.  There  will  be  no  pro-slavery  sermons 
preached,  no  pro-slavery  votes  cast.     There  they  will 


76  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

stand,  face  to  face,  with  that  Almighty  Being  who  has 
said,  that  he  '  made  of  one  blood  all  nations,  to  dwell 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.'  There  they  will  stand,  face 
to  face,  with  that  oppressed  race,  whose  cries,  whose 
tears,  whose  groans  have  so  long  '  gone  up,  and  entered 
into  the  ear  of  the  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth.'  And  yet, 
Frank,  I  wave  a  hope  that  there  will  yet  be  noble 
women  at  the  South,  who,  with  the  light  of  truth  now 
before  their  eyes,  will  *  come  up  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord.' 

"  God  grant  that  it  may  be  so.     Farewell. 

Edward." 

"  But  what  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare  ?  "  Thus  thought  Ed- 
ward, for  it  had  been  a  long  time  since  he  had  heard 
from  her.  He  was  anxious,  and  he  wrote  to  her  as 
follows : 

"  Faint  not  by  the  way,  dear  mother;  but  keep  your 
mind  stregthened  in  the  Lord.  I  am  anxious  about 
your  health,  but  trust  that  you  are  well  and  happy. 
My  time  is  much  occupied  at  present.  I  am  stimula- 
ted in  all  my  exertions  by  feeling  that  I  am  fulfilling 
your  pleasure,  and  by  the  hope  I  have  of  soon  meeting 
you,  also  in  the  hope  of  becoming  useful.  There  is 
much  talk  among  the  students  about  professions  —  of 
becoming  statesmen,  and  being  honorable.  I  will  not 
deny  that  I,  too,  have  thought  of  a  profession  —  have 
thought  that  I  would  like  to  stand  in  the  legislative 
halls  of  my  country,  and  there  proclaim  eternal  truth. 
I  have  thought  of  honor;  but  how  is  honor  won  in 
America,  at  the  present  time?  I  will  answer.  By 
perjury  —  by  base  hypocrisy  —  by  bowing  down  to  the 
Mammon  of  slavery  —  by  prostituting  every  noble 
faculty  of  the  soul  —  by  making  ourselves  subservient 


FRANK   AND    HI3    COUSIN.  77 

to  all  wickedness  —  by  casting  votes  to  bind  the  chains 
of  slavery  —  by  bowing  low  to  every  vice  which  ever 
stained  this  beautiful  earth. 

"  From  my  soul,  I  abhor  and  detest  it.  I  would 
sooner  stand  side  by  side  with  the  miserable  slave,  and 
clank  my  chains  at  the  veriest  verge  of  the  South,  than 
occupy  the  White  House,  or  stand  upon  the  floor  of 
the  Senate  with  a  perjured  soul,  or  lick  the  spittle  of 
Southern  slaveholders. 

"  I  look  upon  my  fellow  men  as  they  stand  forth  to 
the  eye  of  the  world,  and  admire  the  workmanship  of 
the  Creator.  I  behold  his  acts  upon  the  drama  of  life, 
and  my  heart  grows  sick.  Tell  me,  my  dear  mother, 
why  do  men  become  brutes  ?.  With  all  the  faculties  of 
soul  which  God  has  given  him,  why  does  he  ever  be- 
come a  mere  animal  ? 

"  In  this  letter,  my  dear  mother,  you  may  read  your 
Edward's  heart ;  but  't  is  you  who  have  taught  me  to 
know  myself,  and  I  bless  you  for  it.         Farewell. 

Edward  Le  Clare." 

(MKS.    LE  CLARE   TO    EDWARD.) 

"  Dear  Edward,  —  You  say  truly  that  we  need 
strength,  lest  we  faint  by  the  way;  to  obtain  which 
we  should  pray  always  and  without  ceasing :  thus  we 
will  keep  our  minds  so  staid  upon  God  that  we  can, 
at  all  times,  commune  with  him.  And  yet,  my  son, 
when  I  read  the  Congressional  news,  I  almost  faint  by 
the  way. 

"  You  ask  me  when,  and  how  it  is,  that  men,  crea- 
ted in  the  image  of  their  Maker,  debase  themselves  so 
low  ?  It  is  a  solemn  question,  and  one  that  I  would 
like  to  hear  answered  by  the  men  who  are  now  ruling 

6* 


78  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

the  nation ;  for,  from  what  I  have  read  of  their  acts,  I 
am  convinced  they  are  morally  rotten  to  the  very  core. 

"  Be  watchful,  my  son,  of  thy  nobler  part  —  the 
mind.    Men  fall  from  rectitude  by  littles,  not  at  once. 

"  I  see  but  little  of  our  minister,  Mr.  Brownson ;  he 
is  of  late  becoming  very  unpopular  here:  George 
Brownson,  I  am  told,  is  studying  divinity. 

"  Ella  visits  me  often,  and,  I  think,  comes  the  near- 
est filling  your  place  of  any  one,  as  she  reads  to  me, 
talks  to  me,  and  is  always  anxious  for  my  welfare.  I 
think  she  is  a  treasure. 

"  Now,  my  dear  son,  I  must  say  farewell." 

This  letter  from  Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  unusually  short; 
but  there  was  an  anxiety  in  her  mind,  which  she  feared 
to  betray  to  Edward,  on  the  subject  on  which  he  had 
written. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FRANK  LE  RUX  TO  EDWARD  LE  CLARE MORE  ABOUT  THE 

SLAVE  JULIA. 

"  My  Dear  Edward,  —  What  were  we  poor  crea- 
tures without  sympathy?  Those  words  in  your  last 
letter,  '  Pity  you,  and  Emily,  your  cousin,  also,'  how 
they  went  to  my  heart!  But,  Edward,  I  know  not 
whether  the  word  pity  can  properly  be  applied  to  her. 
If  the  word  envy  can  be  used  without  sin,  then,  let  me 
say,  I  envy  her.  Oh !  there  is  a  purity  that  dwells  in 
her  soul,  welling  up,  like  an  overflowing  fountain,  to 
soothe  and  refresh  the  weary  spirit,  so  that  our  very  life  is 
spiritualized.  And  yet,  Edward,  there  are  minds  so 
depraved,  so  steeped  in  wrongs,  that,  although  sur- 
rounded with  its  vitalizing  influence,  they  cannot  inhale 
it.  Oh !  how  lost  are  such !  But  you  want  to  know, 
and  I  will  tell  you,  what  has  occurred  here  since  my 
last  letter. 

"  Emily,  you  recollect,  took  her  father  his  coffee,  and 
remained  with  him  half  an  hour. 

'"■Is  your  father  seriously  ill?'  I  inquired,  as  she 
made  her  appearance. 

"  'I  find  that  he  has  had  a  bad  night,'  said  she;  'and 
I  was  afraid  he  was  much  worse ;  but  he  seems  more 
comfortable  just  now.' 

"  She  looked  pale.  Giving  her  my  arm,  we  ascended 
the  stairs.      At  the  door  of    her  room   stood  Dinah. 

(79) 


80  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

Opening  the  door  noiselessly,  Emily  bade  me  enter.  I 
did  so,  and  stood  before  the  bed  of  the  sufferer,  Julia. 
Her  slightly  waving  hair  had  been  combed  carefully 
back  by  Emily.  There  was  a  napkin  laying  across  her 
forehead ;  and,  as  Emily  removed  it,  I  was  struck  with 
her  noble  brow.  Her  eyes  were  closed.  There  was  an 
occasional  tremor  of  the  hands,  and  her  lips  moved 
convulsively.  She  was  evidently  sleeping.  Dinah  had 
also  entered  the  room,  and  stood  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  bed.  Suddenly,  Julia  gave  a  scream,  and 
with  one  spring,  nearly  bounded  from  the  bed  before 
Emily  had  time  to  speak.  She,  however,  replaced  her 
in  the  bed. 

"  Looking  at  Emily,  she  said :  '  Oh,  yes !  you  are 
an  angel.  God  bless  you.'  Again  her  eyes  were 
closed ;  but  one  hand  was  partially  raised,  as  if  to 
heaven.     Involuntarily  I  uttered  a  deep  groan. 

"'Oh!  isn't  it  rael  wicked,  Mas'r  Frank?'  said 
Dinah. 

"  I  turned  at  the  sound  of  her  voice.  The  tears  were 
coursing  down  her  wrinkled  cheeks,  as  she  said : 

" '  I  know'd  yer  would  n't  like  it  a  bit,  nor  dear  Miss 
Em'ly  neder.  Dey  t'ink  de  niggers  hab  no  feelin',  and 
no  souls  neder ;  but  de  Lord  '11  pay  'em.  July 's  got 
jest  as  much  soul 's  anybody,  an'  most  as  white  too, 
'cept  Miss  Em'ly  here ;  an'  I  berily  b'lieve  she 's  jest  an 
angel,  only  she  ain't  got  no  wings ;  but  de  Lord  '11  gib 
her  sum  wings  bim-by,  and  dat  he  surely  will." 

"  At  this  minute  we  were  startled  by  the  sound  of 
my  mother's  voice,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  calling,  in 
an  angry  tone,  and  telling  Dinah  to  do  as  she  was 
bid." 

"  •  Oh  !  marcy,'  said  Dinah,  while  she  trembled  from 


FRANK   AND   HIS   COUSIN.  81 

head  to  foot,  '  Missis  send  me  to  take  July  up  to  de 
garret.' 

" '  She  can't  go,'  said  Emily ;  '  she  is  too  feeble  ;  it 
will  kill  her.' 

"  '  O  Lord !  I  knows  it ;  but  missis  is  drefful  mad 
'kase  I  cry  dis  mornin' ;  an'  when  I  tell  her  de  poor  ting 
mos'  dead,  she  say  she  'd  send  me  to  the  oberseer  if  I 
didn't  mind.  But 's  no  matter  if  Dinah  do  die;  but  I 
don't  want  dat  critter  to  kill  me.  I  'd  like  to  hab  time 
tu  pray  de  Lord,  and  go  away  'joicing,  like  my  ole 
man.' 

"  Again  my  mother's  voice  was  heard,  in  a  still  more 
angry  tone,  calling  to  Dinah.  During  the  interval  of 
Dinah's  speaking,  Emily  had  been  leaning  over  the  bed ; 
but,  at  the  sound  of  my  mother's  voice,  she  turned 
slowly  around,  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  me.  I  thought  it 
was  an  appeal  to  me ;  and,  advancing  to  the  door,  I 
said,  'I  will  meet  my  mother.'  'No,  Frank,'  said 
Emily,  '  God  is  just,  and  the  justifier  of  all  those  who 
do  his  will.  I  will  meet  your  mother ;  your  inteference 
will  do  harm.  It  will  only  irritate  her,  whereas  I  wish 
to  conciliate  her.  If  you  attend  her,  she  will  look  upon 
me  as  having  been  the  means  of  your  insubordination 
of  late.' 

"  Seeing  me  hesitate,  she  continued,  '  Now  do,  dear 
Frank,  go  to  your  room.  Come,'  said  she  to  Dinah, 
'follow  me ;  I  will  stand  between  you  and  harm  ;  for  I 
have  been  the  cause  of  your  disobedience.' 

"  '  Oh !  de  Lord  bless  you  !  de  Lord  bless  you ! '  said 
Dinah,  as,  with  a  half  trusting,  half  frightened  look, 
she  followed  Emily  down  the  stairs,  while  I  went  to 
my  room,  leaving  the  door  ajar,  that  I  might  be  on 
hand  if  Julia  should  awake,  for  that  scream  still  sounded 


82  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

in  my  ears.  My  mother  was  in  the  parlor ;  and,  by 
throwing  open  the  door  of  my  chamber,  I  could  hear 
the  conversation. 

"  '  I  have  come,  my  dear  aunt,'  said  Emily, '  to  inform 
you  that  I  was  the  cause  of  Dinah's  disobeying  your 
orders,  in  not  removing  Julia  from  my  room ;  or  to  say, 
that  I  objected  to  her  being  removed,  although  it  would 
have  been  out  of  Dinah's  power  to  have  done  it ;  for 
she  is  too  weak  to  be  removed.  Sympathy  for  the  poor 
girl  made  Dinah  forget,  perhaps,  for  the  minute,  your 
command.  As  there  was  no  intention  on  the  part  of 
either  Dinah  or  myself  to  treat  your  orders  with  con- 
tempt, I  trust  we  have  not  incurred  your  displeasure.' 

" '  You  have  been  raised  in  France,  Miss  Le  Rux,' 
said  my  mother, '  and  seem  ignorant  of  the  course  you 
should  pursue  in  regard  to  the  institution  of  slavery. 
You  are,  therefore,  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed  for 
your  conduct  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  It  is  this 
alone  which  has  saved  you  from  the  displeasure  of  both 
myself  and  Mr.  Le  Rux,  and  also  from  a  reprimand 
from  him.  It  seems,'  continued  my  mother,  i  that  cer- 
tain fanatics  at  the  North  have  taken  it  into  their  heads 
that  slavery  is  not  an  institution  of  the  Bible,  or  that, 
if  it  was,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  preached  against  it,  or 
in  favor  of  a  universal  brotherhood  of  the  races,  or 
.  something  of  that  kind;  and,  notwithstanding  their 
ministers  stand  up  in  the  pulpit  and  defend  it,  these 
fellows  dare  to  preach  what  is  termed  "  abolitionism," 
which,  our  minister  says,  is  no  more  nor  less  than  that 
slavery  is  wicked  and  should  be  abolished ;  and  that 
the  negroes  should  marry  with  the  whites.  These 
people  are  called  "  Infidels"  at  the  North,  by  those  who 
know  what  a  good  thing  slavery  is.' 


FRANK   AND   HIS   COUSIN.  83 

"  Emily  was  silent,  and  my  mother  continued :  '  We 

sent  Frank  North,  to  the college ;  and,  the  first 

time  he  came  home,  he  was  so  tinctured  with  "  infidelity" 
that  he  caused  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble ;  and  you  can 
have  no  idea  how  much  we  endured  on  his  account. 
He  will  never  go  North  again,  I  assure  you.  And  you, 
Emily,  must  learn  to  view  the  thing  in  a  different  light. 
It  is  quite  beneath  your  dignity  to  trouble  yourself 
upon  the  subject.  You  will  probably  marry  some  time, 
and  you  wili  make  a  fine  mistress,  if  you  view  the 
thing  in  a  right  light.  The  slaves  are  our  own  property, 
you  know.  How  are  young  ladies  to  be  supported,  if 
we  add  nothing  to  our  income  ?  That  great  fuss  last 
night  was  all  for  nothing.  It  is  profitable,  you  see,  to 
raise  slaves  on  the  plantation.  You  understand  me, 
Miss  Le  Rux?' 

"  I  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot  with  indignation. 
Every  minute  I  had  expected  to  hear  the  voice  of 
Emily,  spealdng  in  the  strongest  terms  possible  of  the 
wrong,  the  guilt,  and  the  wickedness  of  my  mother. 

"  '  And  you  will  permit  Julia  to  remain  in  my  room 
until  she  is  better  ? '  were  the  first  words  she  uttered. 

" '  Oh !'  thought  I,  'with  all  her  feelings,  she  has  been 
able  to  command  herself,  that  she  might  gain  her  point. 
Oh!  how  nobly  has  she  acted.' 

" '  Ah!  here,'  said  my  mother,  'you  do  not  understand 
the  thing  again.  These  creatures  will  make  an  awful 
fuss  about  nothing,  if  they  receive  the  least  kindness. 
Just  let  them  remain  in  their  quarters,  and,  unless  some 
disease  gets  among  them,  they  '11  come  out  all  right. 
Julia  wants  driving  up  a  little,  and  close  training.' 

"  '  But  you  have  not  seen  Julia,  aunt,'  said  Emily. 
Me   see  her  ? '    said  my  mother.     '  I  would  look 


a  ( 


84  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

well  running  after  the  creatures!  Do  you  think  I 
would  trouble  myself  about  them  ?  Why,  Emily,'  she 
continued,  '  you  are  a  strange  girl.  How  shall  I  go  to 
work  to  teach  you  ?  You  won't  hear  our  ladies  talk 
that  way.  I  must  bring  you  out  soon,  if  your  father  is 
not  able  to  attend  you.  Frank  will  be  able  soon  to 
mix  in  society  again.' 

" '  But  really,  dear  aunt,'  said  Emily,  '  Julia  Is  very  ill  * 
and  I  fear,  if  she  is  moved,  will  die.' 

"  I  did  not  wait  for  my  mother's  reply.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  Emily  was  suffering  martyrdom,  and  I  longed 
to  stand  in  her  place ;  not  that  I  thought  that  I  could 
pass  the  ordeal  better,  but  I  wished  to  relieve  her. 
'  Now,'  thought  I,  '  is  my  time  ;'  and,  descending  the 
stairs,  I  entered  the  room. 

"  'Frank,'  said  Emily,  '  I  was  just  about  to  offer  my 
arm  to  your  mother  to  ascend  the  stairs,  that  she  might 
see  Julia,  and  be  able  to  decide  for  herself  whether  it 
would  be  safe  for  her  to  be  removed.' 

" '  Yes,  mother,'  said  I,  '  Julia  is  really  very  bad.' 

"  My  mother  looked  vexed,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  How 
ungentlemanly,  Frank!  You  would  not  have  asked 
me  to  do  it  once.'  But,  in  spite  of  her  aristocracy,  she 
suffered  herself  to  be  led  from  the  room.  She  started 
as  she  beheld  Julia;  indeed,  she  was  much  worse  than 
in  the  morning  —  had  a  high  fever,  and  was  somewhat 
delirious.  Dinah  said  she  had  been  drooping  ever  since 
my  father  bought  her ;  and  now  my  mother  was  in  a 
great  fret^for  fear  that  Julia  would  die,  and  thus  be 
some  hundreds  of  dollars  loss  to  them.  She  consented 
that  Julia  might  stay  in  Emily's  room  until  my  father 
returned,  who  was  to  be  absent  one  week. 

"  At  dinner,  my  mother  remarked,  that  Dinah  had 


FRANK   AND   HIS    COUSIN.  85 

better  sleep  in  Emily's  room,  as  Emily  must  not  be 
kept  awake  ;  it  would  spoil  her  pretty  face.  They 
could  not  afford  to  lose  Julia  ;  she  believed  she  would 
never  be  worth  to  them  what  Mr.  Le  Rux  paid  for  her, 
as  her  old  mistress  had  spoiled  her.  Her  old  mistress 
was  a  very  weak  woman  any  how,  always  talking 
about  her  duties  to  her  slaves ;  she  thought  their  new 
mistress  would  teach  them  what  was  what." 

But  we  must  return  to  Mrs.  Le  Clare.  Thus  writes 
Edward  to  her : 

"  I  know  not  but  the  Fugitive  Bill  will  pass  both 
houses  ;  but  let  true  men  do  their  duty,  and  slavery 
will  yet  be  abolished.  It  is  light  that  is  needed  by  the 
mass  ;  and  then  they  will  shake  themselves  until  they 
are  shorn  of  their  dishonor.  The  people  of  the  North 
have  been  led  blindfold  by  Northern  doughfaces,  who 
are  but  the  tools  of  Southern  aristocratic  slaveholders. 
Facts  must  be  brought  before  the  people,  and  it  is  being 
done.  There  are  those  who  are  willing  to  be  offered 
up,  if  need  be. 

"  Oh !  what  a  pioneer  for  liberty  has  Wm.  Lloyd 
Garrison  been !  It  is  but  recently  that  I  have  got 
hold  of  the  facts  connected  with  his  first  anti-slavery 
movements.  This  devoted  man,  in  connection  with 
Benjamin  Lundy,  published  an  anti-slavery  paper, 
called  the  Genius  of  Universal  Emancipation,  prior  to 
the  establishment  of  the  Liberator.  In  Park-street 
Church,  Boston,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1829,  in  his  address 
to  the  people,  on  the  subject  of  American  slavery,  he 
taught  the  wicked  doctrine  of  gradual  emancipation ; 
but  in  the  first  number  of  the  Liberator,  we  find  him 
confessing  his  folly  as  follows :  '  I  seize  this  opportunity 
of  making   a   full    and  unequivocal  recantation ;  and 


86  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

thus  publicly  ask  pardon  of  my  God,  of  my  country, 
and  of  my  poor  brethren,  the  slaves,  for  having  uttered 
a  sentiment  so  full  of  timidity,  injustice,  and  absurdity.' 
"  Wm.  Lloyd  Garrison,  as  editor,  issued  the  first  num- 
ber of  the  Liberator  on  Saturday,  January  1, 1831.  In 
this  paper  he  says :  '  I  am  in  earnest  —  I  will  not 
equivocate  —  I  will  not  excuse  —  I  will  not  retreat  a 
single  inch  —  and  I  will  be  heard.'  And  to  oppression 
he  said: 

"  '  I  swear,  while  life's  blood  warms  my  throbbing  veins, 
Still  to  oppose  and  thwart,  with  heart  and  hand, 

Thy  brutalizing  sway — till  Afric's  chains 
Are  burst,  and  Freedom  rules  the  rescued  land, 

Trampling  oppression  and  his  iron  rod ; 
Such  is  the  vow  I  take  —  so  help  me  God ! ' 

"  From  that  day  to  this,  who  has  ever  charged  him 
with  losing  sight  of  his  heaven-registered  vow  ?  No  one. 
From  his  first  entrance  into  public  life,  he  has  been 
strong  in  his  original  purpose  —  dissipating  the  mists 
of  blindness,  superstition,  and  bigotry  from  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  the  people.  Let  ignorance  continue  to 
cry  down  the  holy  warfare  as  being  l  infidelity  ! ' —  God 
looketh  at  the  heart.  From  whence  does  this  cry  come  ? 
From  pro-slavery  preachers  and  churches  —  from  slave- 
holders who  deal  in  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men  —  and 
from  those  who,  I  believe,  would  gladly  make  a  slave 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  were  he  at  the  South,  and 
dared  preach  the  same  doctrines  there  that  he  did  cight- 
een  hundred  years  ago.  They  would  crucify  him  as 
;i  rebel  against  American  institutions.  For,  verily,  they 
have  perverted  his  teachings,  and  have  enslaved  and 
slain  his  poor  and  needy  children;  and  he  says,  thai 
whai  i hey  do  to  his   followers  they   do  to    him.      Can 


FRANK    AND    HIS    COUSIN.  5  t 

they  tell  him  that  they  did  not  know  what  his  golden 
rule  meant  ?  E.  L.  C." 

(MRS.    LB   CLARE   TO   EDWARD.) 

"  Verily,  my  son,  it  is  thou  who  needest  strengthen- 
ing at  this  time.  '  Be  not  cast  down,  O  my  soul,'  for 
God  liveth.  He  has  a  church  on  earth  ;  yes,  and  firm 
as  the  everlasting  hills  it  stands,  l  and  the  gates  of  hell 
shall  not  prevail  against  it.' 

"  My  heart  has  been  sorely  tried  with  poor  Mr. 
Brownson.  I  believe  I  have  told  you,  that  it  was 
under  his  preaching  that  I  was  converted.  It  has  been 
a  stumbling-block  to  me ;  for,  at  that  time,  I  believed 
him  to  be  a  warm-hearted  Christian  ;  but  I  see  how  it 
is  :  he  was  not  crucified  to  the  world ;  and,  in  the  time 
of  temptation,  fell  away.  I  fear  he  is  one  of  those  of 
whom  Christ  said,  'that  their  last  end  would  be  worse 
than  their  first.'  I  met  him  a  few  days  ago  ;  his  light 
has  gone  out.  He  seems  so  dark  that  it  almost  makes 
me  shudder.  He  thought  to  wound  me  by  remarking, 
that '  our  colleges  were  being  filled  with  young  Infidels.' 
But  Ella  was  with  me,  and  turned  all  his  shafts,  and  I 
had  but  little  to  do.  He  tried  to  aim  deadly  blows  at 
Garrison.  Ella  answered  him  by  saying,  that  '  slavery 
and  pro-slavery  preachers  were  all  the  instrumentalities 
that  the  devil  needed  to  make  the  world  truly  and 
hopelessly  Infidel,  both  to  God  and  man,  and  there 
would  be  no  thanks  due  to  them,  if  the  world  did  not 
become  Infidel.'  She  is  a  dear  good  girl,  Edward,  and 
as  bold  in  the  truth  as  a  lion.  Mr.  Brownson  was  loud 
in  his  commendations  of  George.  Ella  remarked,  that 
she  wondered  he  did  not  turn  farmer,  for  she  was  sure 
there  -would  soon  be  but  little  need  of  pro-slavery 
preachers.     She  was  not  quite  sure  but  the  time  had 


£8  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

come,  spoken  of  by  Christ,  when  we  needed  not  that 
'  any  man  should  teach  us.' 

"  His  dignity,  too,  seems  to  have  proved  treacherous ; 
and,  instead  of  the  loftiness  and  high  bearing,  so  much 
his  support  in  former  days,  there  is  an  uneasy  restless- 
ness in  his  manner  —  a  looking  down,  as  if  he  could 
not  brook  your  eye.  Indeed,  Edward,  it  speaks  to  me 
thus :  '  /  have  fallen^  and  you  know  zY.'  Ella  says,  she 
'would  sooner  be  a  slave  at  the  South,  than  slavery's 
ass  at  the  North.' 

"  George  can  yet  put  on  lofty  airs,  though  he  will 
never  run  the  race  his  father  has  ;  it  is  altogether  too 
late  in  the  day.  I  believe  that  the  prayers  of  good 
men  have  been  heard,  and  that  the  Lord  is  about  to 
answer  them.  Prayer  is  a  mighty  weapon  to  the  pulling 
down  of  strongholds.  Then  let  us  pray  much,  my  dear 
Edward ;  yea,  '  pray  without  ceasing.'     Farewell." 

Mrs.  Le  Clare's  health,  at  the  time  she  penned  this 
letter  to  Edward,  seemed  waning.  She  found  herself 
thinner  than  usual ;  "but  then  there  is  no  disease  upon 
me,"  said  she,  one  morning,  to  Ella,  when  Ella  expressed 
anxiety  at  her  appearance;  "perhaps  I  need  to  take 
more  exercise." 
*     "  And  will  you  walk  with  me  ?"  said  Ella. 

"  I  believe  I  will,"  replied  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  "  for  the 
morning  is  truly  inviting." 

Ella  brought  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  gave  her 
arm  to  Mrs.  Le  Clare.  After  a  walk  of  about  half  an 
hour,  they  returned  to  the  house.  Mrs.  Le  Clare  found 
herself  invigorated. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Ella,"  said  she,  "  I  know  that  I 
am  indebted  to  you  for  all  these  kindnesses ;  but  I  am  also 
aware  that,  with  your  disposition,  you  possess  a  reward 


FRANK   AND    HIS    COUSIN.  89 

in  your  own  heart.  You  have  been  to  me  a  great  com- 
fort since  my  Edward's  departure.  God  will  reward 
you  a  thousand  fold,  both  in  this  world  and  in  that 

which  is  to  come.     Had  my  Edith  been  here ,"  her 

voice  faltered,  her  lips  moved,  but  Ella  did  not  catch 
the  words.     Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  greatly  agitated. 

"  Ah ! "  thought  Ella,  as  a  tear  trembled  in  her  eye, 
"  she  then  once  had  a  daughter ;  but  she  is  dead."  And 
she  inwardly  resolved  that  she  would  be  more  than  ever 
attentive. 


CHAPTER    X. 

MORE    ABOUT    THE     SLAVE   JULIA. 
(FEANK   TO   EDWARD.) 

"  Well,  the  scene  is  over,  dear  Edward ;  and  the 
poor  down-trodden,  but  noble  minded  Julia,  is  no  more, 
and  her  blood  is  crying  from  the  ground  in  every  part 
of  this,  our  guilty  land.  I  seem  to  see  the  God  of  the 
oppressed  about  to  deal  out  vengeance  upon  this  nation. 
I  seem  to  see  blood,  fire,  famine,  pestilence,  and  all  the 
various  judgments  which  were  ever  dealt  out  upon  any 
guilty  nation  for  their  transgressions,  hovering  over  this 
nation.  There  is  a  wail,  and  it  greets  me  wherever  I 
go.  I  have  no  rest;  all  about,  above  and  below,  is 
blood.  Ah !  whither  shall  I  fly  ?  The  very  mother 
who  bore  me  is  a  murderess !  and  my  father  who  begat 
me  a  monster!  Think!  oh,  think!  what  a  fate  mine 
must  be.  One  would  suppose  I  should  not  approach 
my  mother,  because  she  is  stained  with  blood ;  and 
that  I  could  not  own  my  father  because  he  is  a  mur- 
derer ! 

"  But,  Edward,  where  was  I  ?  Was  I  not  going  to 
tell  you  about  poor  Emily  ?  Well,  that  noble,  disin- 
terested creature  has  been  suffering  much :  she  is  as 
pale  as  death.  When  I  remonstrated  with  her  about 
her  disregard  of  her  own  health,  she,  with  her  usual 
kindness,  pressed  her  hand  upon  my  brow,  telling  me 
that  I  was  not  well  myself,  that  T  was  feverish,  and  that 

(90) 


DEATH  OF  THE  SLAVE  GIRL.  91 

I  must  not  write  more  until  I  was  more  calm.  I  will 
not ;  and  shall  petition  my  Father  in  heaven  for  firm- 
ness to  address  you. 

"  Well,  Edward,  I  have  been  in  communion  with 
my  Heavenly  Father,  and  I  feel  more  calm.  I  think  I 
was  bewildered  when  Emily  came  to  my  room,  and, 
laying  her  hand  upon  my  brow,  bid  me  wait  until  I  was 
more  composed. 

"  Now  I  will  endeavor  to  tell  you  my  horrid  story. 
The  slave,  Julia,  grew  worse,  and  was  delirious. 
Emily's  father  was  more  unwell,  and  she  had  to  divide 
her  time  between  her  father  and  Julia.  I  could  discover 
that  she  always  came  from  his  room  with  a  kind  of 
anxiety,  or  distress,  depicted  upon  her  countenance. 
Dinah  slept  in  Emily's  room,  and  was  with  Julia  while 
Emily  was  with  her  father. 

"  My  mother  was  constantly  talking  of  the  loss  of 
the  girl,  pecuniarily,  if  she  should  die.  f  The  slaves  are 
becoming  good  for  nothing,'  she  said.  '  I  believe  they 
have  all  got  infected  with  that  miserable  abolition ;  and 
I  think  they  will  all  yet  run  away  or  die.  It  appears 
to  me  the  wicked  doctrine  has  come  in  the  wind,  and 
the  slaves  as  well  as  some  of  the  white  folks  have  caught 
it.  Some  people  inform  me,'  she  continued,  '  that 
miserable  Infidels  are  prowling  all  around  the  country 
as  pedlers  and  this  and  that,  pretending  that  they  had 
found  a  new  meaning  to  the  Bible;  and  that  when 
Christ  said,  "we  must  do  unto  others  as  we  would 
have  others  do  unto  us,"  he  meant  niggers  too.  I 
should  n't  wonder,  if  they  went  'round  among  the 
niggers  at  night,  trying  to  make  them  believe  they  were 
just  as  good,  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  their  masters  and 


92  THE   CUESE   ENTAILED. 

mistresses ;  that  God  meant  they  should  be  free,  and 
that  it  was  right  for  them  to  run  away.  A  great  many 
of  them  have  already  run  away ;  and  I  have  been  told, 
that  there  is  an  underground  railroad,  and  people 
placed  along  the  route  to  feed  the  slaves  and  pay  their 
fare.  I  think  it  a  pretty  business,  and  hope  the  fa- 
natics will  all  be  caught  and  hanged  upon  the  first  tree.' 

"  '  The  better  you  treat  slaves,'  said  she,  '  the  worse 
they  will  act.  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  slaves  on 
my  father's  plantation.  Why,  they  did  n't  know  any 
more  than  the  cattle;  they  didn't  know  who  made 
them,  or  that  there  was  any  God.  I  tell  you,  we  did  n't 
have  any  fuss.  I  have  known  them  to  be  whipped  till 
their  backs  were  like  a  piece  of  raw  beef,  except  that 
it  turned  up  in  ridges ;  I  have  often  seen  my  father 
laugh,  and  mimic  the  wry  faces  they  would  make  when 
he  put  the  strong  salt-brine  on  their  backs.  Perhaps 
you  don't  know  why  this  is  done,  Emily.  It  is  to 
keep  them  from  dying ;  for  they  can't  afford  to  have 
their  slaves  die.  If  it  was  Julia's  back  that  had  been 
hurt,  I  would  try  it  on  her ;  but  I  don't  know  where 
she 's  hurt.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  Mr.  Le  Rux  would 
say  it  was  wilfulness  after  all  that  ails  her,  and  try  a 
few  cuts  of  the  whip  upon  her.' 

"  Emily  had  been  perfectly  dumb  during  all  this  hor- 
rible recital  by  my  mother,  without  even  lifting  her 
eyes.  '  Has  she  power  to  speak? '  thought  I,  'or  is  she 
paralyzed  ? ' 

"  But  '  cum,  cum  quick ;  do  Miss  Em'ly,'  from 
Dinah's  voice,  had  power  to  move  her,  and  she  flew  like 
lightning  up  the  stairs,  followed  by  myself. 

"  Oh !  Lo'd,  missis,'  said  Dinah, '  she 's  got  right  up 
in  bed ;  an'  her  eyes  roll  all  'bout,  an'  star'  rite  at  me, 


DEATH    OP   THE   SLAVE    GIRL.  93 

till  1  ?s  rael  skared ;  an'  den  she  look  rite  at  dat  ar  gow.n 
thar,  an'  say  't  was  de  oberseer !  An  den'  she  holler 
rite  out,  "  Em'ly ; "  an'  w'en  she  seed  you  din't  cum, 
she  shake  her  fist  jes'  so ;  an'  den  lift  her  eyes  rite  up 
to  heben.  An'  den  I  git  thar,  an'  lay  her  rite  back  in 
bed  'gin  ;  an'  now  I  b'leve  she 's  fas'  'sleep  ? 

"  Emily  approached  the  bed.  '  She  is  sleeping. 
See,  cousin,  her  fever  is  abating,  and  she  seems  better.' 

" '  But  what  can  life  be  to  her  ? '  said  I ;  '  I  had  al- 
most hoped  that  her  trials  would  soon  end.' 

"'Law,  yis;  Mas'r  Frank?'  said  Dinah,  'you 's  all 
rite  'bout  dat.  I 's  wished  a  t'ousand  times  I  'd  died. 
Why,  poor  ole  Dinah's  back 's  all  jes'  like  bone,  from  one 
end  to  toder.  Why,  Mas'r  Frank,  an'  good  Miss  Em- 
'ly, w'en  I  lib  wid  ole  mas'r,  den  de  niggers  'now'd 
nothin'  down  dar ;  an'  dey  let  me  hab  one  chil',  an' 
den  dey  sell  'im ;  an'  den  noder,  an'  sell  'im,  'til  dey  sell 
six ;  an'  I  lub  'em  jes'  as  well 's  anybody,  an'  sum  ob 
um  mos'  white.  Den,  w'en  dey  gib  me  my  ole  man, 
den  I  hab  noder,  an  dey  sell  'im  too,  an'  he  jes's  smart's 
witch.  An'  ebry  time  w'en  dey  take  'way  my  chil- 
'ren,  I  cry  dreff'ly ;  den  dey  whip,  whip,  an'  call  me  fool, 
an'  ebry  'ting  else ;  but  I  could  n't  help  cry.  An'  den, 
w'en  your  moder  git  mar'ed,  Mas'r  Frank,  den  dey  gib 
my  ole  man  and  me  tu  her ;  an'  den,  w'en  you  born, 
Mas'r  Frank,  den  I  took  good  car'  ob  you,  but  tink  all 
time  'bout  my  own  poor  chil'ren,  all  gone  way  off, 
nobody  knows  whar.  An'  den  my  ole  man  say,  sum- 
body  tell  'im  'bout  de  Lo'd,  an'  dat  he  har  us  w'en  we 
talk;  an'  dat  he  make  de  niggers  as  well's  de  white  folks; 
an'  den  we  talk  to  the  Lord  eb'ry  night,  an'  my  ole  man 
tell  'im  make  young  mas'r  good;  an'  he  say  he  will;  an' 
he  tell  no  lie  neder.' 


94  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Emily  had  been  sitting  by  the  bed,  apparently  hav- 
ing her  mind  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts,  so  as 
not  to  have  noticed  Dinah's  remarks  ;  but,  at  this  mo- 
ment, I  saw  the  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  and 
Dinah  said: 

" '  Oh !  marcy,  dear  Miss  Em'ly,  I 's  made  you  cry. 
Neber  mind,  'kase  I 's  goin'  puty  soon  up  to  de 
Lord,  whar  my  ole  man 's  gone ;  an'  I  '11  tell  de  Lord 
all  'bout  you  an'  Mas'r  Frank,  an'  dat  you 's  so  good. 
But  I  hopes,  if  you  stays  down  here,  an'  eber  finds  my 
chil'rens,  you  '11  tell  um  'bout  de  Lo'd,  an'  whar  we 's 
gone ;  'kase  I  'm  fear'd  dey  neber  know  nothin'  'bout 
'im,  an'  dey  '11  neber  ask  'im  to  let  dem  cum  up  dar,  an' 
I  wants  see 'um  so  bad!  I  jes'  b'leve  I'll  die  if  dey 
don't  cum  to  see  me.' 

"  I  arose  and  paced  the  room.  I  could  not  conceal 
my  emotions,  as  I  said ;  '  Yes,  Dinah,  you  will  meet 
your  children  in  heaven;  but  I  shall  never  meet  my 
parents  there,  for  blood  is  on  their  skirts.' 

"  At  this  moment,  Julia  awoke,  looked  about  the 
room,  and  then  fixed  her  eyes  upon  Emily. 

" '  Do  you  feel  better  ? '  asked  Emily. 

" '  Yes,'  was  her  reply ;  '  but  I  have  had  such  a  bad 
dream,'  she  continued ;  '  I  am  so  happy  now,  though.' 
Her  eyes  were  fairly  illuminated.  Emily  offered  her 
some  nourishment.  She  took  some,  was  silent  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  said: 

" '  Dear  Miss  Emily,  may  I  tell  you  my  dream  ? ' 

" '  Certainly ; '  said  Emily  ;  '  I  wish  to  hear  it.' 

"'Well,' said  Julia,  'let  Master  Frank,  and  Dinah 
stay ;  I  want  them  to  hear  it  too.' 

"  Emily  bowed  in  acquiescence,  and  she  began : 

"  '  I  dreamed  I  was  here,  Miss  Emily,  right  here,  ly- 


DEATH  OF  THE  SLAVE  GIRL.  95 

ing  upon  this  bed.  Dinah  was  here,  but  you  and  Mas- 
ter Frank  were  not  here.  Suddenly,  the  door  opened, 
and  master  entered  the  room,  and  with  him  the  over- 
seer. I  turned  my  head  away,  for  I  could  not  bear  to 
look  at  him.  Master  Le  Rux  told  me,  I  need  not 
put  on  my  airs,  for  he  would  not  have  it.  He  then 
asked  me  how  I  did  ?  I  told  him  that  I  was  some 
better,  still  keeping  my  eyes  turned  to  the  wall,  so  that 
I  could  not  see  the  overseer,  for  it  made  me  feel  faint, 
and  my  head  grew  dizzy  to  look  at  him.  Master  then 
bade  me  get  up,  and  go  to  the  quarters.  I  told  him  I 
was  too  weak,  but  that  I  was  willing  to  die ;  and  if  he 
would  send  the  overseer  away  from  the  plantation,  and 
get  a  new  overseer,  I  would  try  to  go.  At  this  master 
looked  at  me  dreadfully,  and  told  the  overseer  to  carry 
me  to  the  slave  quarters.  He  came  towards  me ;  I 
called  for  you ;  but  as  you  did  not  come,  I  sprang  up 
in  bed,  shook  my  fist  at  him,  uttered  a  scream,  and  fell 
back  upon  the  bed.  The  overseer  was  about  to  lay 
his  hands  upon  me ;  I  shut  my  eyes  to  hide  him  from 
my  sight,  when  instantly  above  me  stood  my  former 
mistress.  She  was  attended  by  a  shining  multitude. 
"  Come,  my  Julia,"  said  she.  Instantly  I  was  by  her 
side.  As  I  flitted  up,  I  saw  you  and  Master  Frank 
entering  the  room.'  Here  Julia  shut  her  eyes  again, 
and  said,  '  My  mistress  is  here  yet.' 

"  Emily  did  not  speak,  and  I  said,  '  Your  dream  has 
bewildered  you,  Julia.'  Here  she  shut  her  eyes  again, 
and,  opening  them,  said : 

"  '  It  was  a  dream  in  part ;  but  my  mistress  is  here 
still,  for  I  see  her  whenever  I  shut  my  eyes.  She 
smiles  sweetly  upon  me,  and  her  hand  is  reaching  out 


90 


THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 


to  me.  She  is  as  she  used  to  be,  only  so  much 
brighter.' 

" '  But  you  are  weak,  and  have  slept  too  long ; '  said 
I,  '  and  your  head ' 

"  Here  I  was  interrupted  by  Dinah,  who  said  : 

" '  O  Mas'r  Frank ;  bless  de  Lord ;  she 's  goin'  rite 
up  to  heben  to  de  Lord  puty  soon ;  you  '11  see,  Mas'r 
Frank.  Oh  !  I  wish  I 's  goin'  too.  Do  ask  her,  July, 
to  let  me  cum.  I'll  pray;  I'll  pray  all  night.  Dey'll 
neber  'buse  you  much  more,  July;  for  you're  goin'  off 
de  plantation  rite  up ;  an'  she 's  an'  angel  cum  arter  ye ; 
an'  if  I  can't  go,  tell  de  Lord  to  let  me  cum  soon. 
Do,  July,  shet  your  eyes  'gin,  an'  ask  her  to  let  me 
cum ;  tell  her  I  'm  all  worn  out,  an'  my  back 's  all  sore.' 

"  Dinah  had  risen  from  her  seat,  and  was  swaying 
her  body  to  and  fro,  with  hands  and  eyes  both  lifted 
to  heaven.  Emily  gazed  from  her  to  Julia ;  but  did 
not  speak.     Again  that  holy  light  was  in  her  eye. 

"  By  this  time,  Dinah  had  fallen  upon  her  knees,  and 
was  praying,  not  aloud,  but  to  herself,  though  occasion- 
ally we  could  hear  the  words :  '  Let  me  cum,  O  Lord, 
let  me  cum  !  Oh !  poor  ole  Dinah ;  so  ole,  so  lame. 
Oh !  take  me  hum.'  At  length,  looking  up,  she  said, 
while  she  strained  her  eyes  in  an  unnatural  manner : 
'  Oh !  I  jes'  wish  I  could  see  it.' 

" '  And  she  is  still  here ; '  said  Julia,  as  she  opened 
her  eyes,  '  bright  as  ever,  and  her  hand  is  still  reached 
towards  me.' 

"  Dinah  arose,  with  the  tears  coursing  down  her 
wrinkled  cheeks.  At  this  instant  my  mother  called 
her. 

" '  Oh !  marcy ! '  said  Dinah,  '  T  'in  all  cryin',  an' 
pho'll  be  rael  mad;  an'  she  said  she'd  send  me  to  de 


DEATH    OF   THE   SLAVE   GIRL.  07 

oberseer,  if  I 's  sich  a  fool  to  cry  agin.  Oh !  Oh  ? '  she 
continued, '  he 's  an  awful  critter,  an'  I  don't  want  'im  to 
kill  me,  'kase  de  Lord  wont  hab  nothin'  to  do  wid  me 
arter  dat ;  for  the  debil's  in  the  oberseer,  an'  de  Lord 
wont  hab  me,  if  de  oberseer  kills  me.' 

"  In  this  manner  she  descended  the  stairs,  but  turned 
to  cast  a  wistful  look  at  Emily,  who  advanced  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs-,  and  stood  within  hearing. 

" '  Did  I  not  tell  you,  Dinah,'  said  my  mother, '  that 
I  would  have  no  more  of  this  whimpering  ? ' 

" '  Oh !  marcy,'  said  Dinah,  '  if  you  'd  been  thar, 
you'd  cried  yer  own  self  for  sartin,  for  Miss  Emily 
cried ;  I  seen  de  tears  all  down  her  face.' 

"  '  Is  Julia  worse  ? '  inquired  my  mother. 

" '  Oh !  laws  no,  missis,  she 's  better. 

" '  And  were  you  crying  for  fear  we  won't  lose  the 
girl,  after  paying  one  thousand  dollars  for  her  ?  "  asked 
my  mother. 

'"Oh!  missis,'  said  Dinah,  'thar's  been  an  angil 
thar,  an'  she 's  thar  now,  an'  she 's  bec'ning  July  all  de 
time  to  cum,  an'  it 's  her  ole  missis  that  she  had  'fore. 
She  wants  her  to  cum  dar,  an'  she 's  jist  smilin'  at  'er 
all  de  time,  an'  she 's  goin'  to  take  her  up  to  de  Lord.' 

"  Here  Emily  descended  the  stairs,  and  stood  in  their 
presence. 

" '  I  don't  allow  my  slaves,  Emily,'  said  my  mother, 
'to  be  whimpering  and  crying  about  the  house  or 
plantation.  Here  is  Dinah,  coming  down  from  your 
room,  looking  as  if  she  had  been  blubbering  all  day ; 
and  then,  to  screen  herself,  is  telling  me  about  an 
angel,  and  I  don't  know  what.  It  would  take  a  lawyer 
to  understand  her.  But  I  shall  send  her  to  the  over- 
seer ;  I  can't  have  it  any  longer.* 

9 


98  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Poor  Dinah  was  dumb ;  but  her  eyes  were  fixed 
imploringly  upon  Emily,  who  said :  '  Dinah  is  not  to 
blame,  aunt ;  neither  has  she  told  you  a  lie.  You  sent 
her  to  assist  me  in  taking  care  of  Julia ;  and  she  cer- 
tainly cannot  be  to  blame  for  an  angel's  coming.' 

" '  What  ails  you,  Emily  ? '  said  my  mother.  '  I  did 
not  know  that  you  were  superstitious.  Why,  you  '11 
spoil  all  the  diggers  on  the  plantation.  Dinah,'  she 
continued, '  go  to  the  kitchen.' 

"  Dinah  obeyed,  and  my  mother  said  to  Emily : 

" '  I  am  not  half  as  much  afraid  of  angels  coming  to 
my  niggers  as  I  am  of  the  devil.  I  believe  they  are 
all  more  or  less  possessed  of  the  devil.' 

" *  Would  you  not  much  rather  good  angels  would 
come  than  bad  ones  ? '  said  Emily. 

" '  I  do  not  believe  they  can,'  said  my  mother. 

" '  Don't  you  think  the  Lord  has  as  much  power  as 
the  devil  ? '  said  Emily.  My  mother  was  silent ;  and 
Emily  continued :  '  But  what  makes  you  think  the 
devil  can  come  to  people  ?  " 

" '  Because  the  Bible  says,  "  he  goes  about  like  a 
roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour  "  ;  and  the 
niggers  act  as  if  they  were  possessed  of  the  devil.' 

" '  And  the  Bible  says,  also,'  said  Emily, '  that  "  He 
shall  give  his  angels  charge  concerning  thee,  lest  at 
any  time  thou  dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone."  And 
there  are  a  great  many  instances  in  the  Bible  of  angels 
coming  to  persons ;  and  I  think  that  Julia  acts  as  if 
she  were  possessed  with  a  good  angel.' 

" '  But  the  Bible  don't  tell  about  angels  coming  to 
wicked  folks,'  said  my  mother. 

" '  Was  not  Saul  of  Tarsus  wicked,  at  the  time  there 
shone  round  about   him  a  great  light  from  heaven  ? ' 


DEATH  OF  THE  SLAVE  GIRL.  99 

asked  Emilv.  'Was  not  Belshazzar  wicked,  at  the  time 
of  the  handwriting  on  the  wall  ?  The  old  serpent  came 
to  Eve  when  she  knew  no  wickedness.  Satan  came 
also  before  the  Lord,  in  the  case  of  Job  ;  and  the  devil 
tempted  our  Saviour  on  an  exceedingly  high  mountain. 
Now,  I  think,  as  I  said  before,  that  Julia  appears  as  if 
she  were  possessed  with  an  angel ;  and,  furthermore, 
she  says  she  has  seen  one,  and  that  it  is  now  in  my 
room.' 

"  '  Have  you  seen  it  ? '  inquired  my  mother. 

"  '  No,'  replied  Emily.  '  Do  you  see  the  devil,  when 
he  comes  to  the  niggers,  aunt  ?  ' 

" '  You  are  a  strange  girl,  Emily.  No,  I  do  not  see 
him,  of  course.  But  how  do  you  know  there  is  an 
angel  in  the  room  ? ' 

"  '  I  did  not  say  I  knew  it,  aunt,'  said  Emily,  *  but  I 
am  not  afraid  to  say  so ;  for  its  presence  filled  the  room, 
and  I  felt  it  in  my  heart,  and  it  made  me  feel  more 
holy.  If  I  were  obliged  to  keep  slaves  (though  I 
would  not  keep  one  for  worlds),  I  would  want  the  good 
angels  to  come  to  them,  instead  of  the  bad  ones ;  for 
fear  I  would  feel  the  bad  ones  in  my  heart,  and  it  would 
make  me  feel  more  wicked.' 

"  '  I  don't  think  niggers  can  see  or  feel  angels,'  said 
my  mother. 

"  '  Why,  Julia  sees  one,'  replied  Emily,  '  although  I 
know  she  is  almost  white  —  perhaps  about  one-eighth 
negro.     But  I  am  sure  Dinah  felt  this  one.' 

"  '  What  makes  you  think  Dinah  felt  it  ? '  said  my 
mother. 

" '  Because  her  heart  answered  to  my  heart,'  replied 
Emily,  'and  T  felt  its  presence,  and  she  said  she  did, 


100  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

mid  told  what  angel  it  was ;  and  she  prayed ; '  con- 
tinued Emily. 

" '  And  what  did  she  pray  for  ?'  asked  my  mother. 

"  '  That  the  Lord  would  let  her  go  up  to  heaven  with 
Julia ;  and  she  told  the  Lord  that  her  back  was  dread- 
ful lame,  where  she  had  been  whipped  so  much.' 

"  My  mother  was  silent  a  minute ;  and  then  said,  '  I 
tell  you,  Emily,  it  don't  do  to  show  any  mercy  to  these 
creatures.' 

"  '  That  is  a  dreadful  thing,'  said  Emily ;  '  for  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  said,  that  "  we  must  be  merciful,  if  we 
would  obtain  mercy." ' 

"  Again  my  mother  was  silent,  and  Emily  continued : 
'  Well,  if  ever  I  have  slaves,  (though,  as  I  have  said,  I 
would  not  have  them  for  worlds),  I  shall  try  to  have 
good  angels  come  to  them,  for  I  wouldn't  want  them 
about  me,  if  the  devil  possessed  them.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  my  mother, '  how  would  you  go  to  work 
to  have  good  angels  come  ? ' 

"  'Oh!  I  would  tell  the  slaves  that  the  Good  Spirit 
made  them ;  and  that  they  had  souls  to  save.  That  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  loved  them,  and  died  for  them.  I 
would  teach  them  to  pray,  and  learn  them  to  read,  so 
that  they  could  read  the  Bible,  and  understand  their 
duties  and  responsibilities.' 

"  Again  my  mother  was  silent,  and  Emily  related  to 
her  the  scene  in  the  chamber,  and  what  Julia  had  said. 

"  '  But  you  do  not  believe  she  will  die  ? '  said  my 
mother,  inquiringly. 

"  'I  certainly  do,'  said  Emily,  '  I  believe  the  Lord  is 
about  to  fulfil  his  promise,  and  take  her  up ;  and  that 
he  has  sent  a  guardian  spirit  to  her,  to  comfort  and  sus- 
tain her.' 


DEATH  OP  THE  SLAVE  GIRL.  101 

" '  I  don't  know  what  promise  you  refer  to,'  said  my 
mother. 

" '  When  thy  father  and  mother  forsake  thee,  then 
the  Lord  will  take  thee  up,'  said  Emily. 

" '  Its  hard  telling  much  about  who  the  fathers  and 
mothers  of  the  slaves  are,'  said  my  mother.  *  I  don't 
know  anything  about  Julia's  father  and  mother ;  but 
Julia's  father  must  have  been  white.' 

" '  Well,  then,'  said  Emily,  l  that  is  another  reason 
why  I  would  not  like  to  have  slaves,  for  then  I  would 
have  to  stand  in  the  place  of  their  mothers ;  and  if  I 
should  forsake  them,  and  the  Lord  should  take  them  up, 
what  a  dreadful  account  I  would  have  to  render ! ' 

"  My  mother  was  silent ;  but  this  time  Dinah  was 
not  sent  to  the  overseer  to  be  whipped,  and  it  would 
have  done  your  heart  good  to  have  heard,  the  '  Lord 
bless  you,  Miss  Emily,'  that  came  from  her  lips  after- 
wards. The  next  time  she  came  to  the  room,  she 
looked  very  serious,  as  if  she  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing. 

"  j  Well,  Dinah,'  said  I, '  my  mother  did  not  send  you 
to  the  overseer.' 

" ■  Oh ! '  said  she,  't  was  all  Miss  Em'ly's  doin's ;  an' 
de  Lord  '11  bless  her  fureber  and  eber.  I  knows  missis 
drefF'l  skar'd  'bout  dat  angil,  'kase  she  look  awrful 
sober ;  I  tell  you,  Mas'r  Frank,  I  jest  wish  she  'd  seen 
one  'erself.' 

" '  But  I  am  afraid,  Dinah,'  said  I,  '  that  my  mother 
will  never  see  any  but  fallen  angels.' 

" *  An'  what  angels  be  dat  ? '  asked  Dinah  ;  '  sure, 
Mas'r  Frank,  de  angels  don't  fall  down ;  if  dis  one 
fall,  'twould  cum  down  on  July.  I  'spects  it  won't  hurt 
her  tho\ 

it* 


102  THE    0UB8E    KXTAILED. 

" '  I  mean,  Dinah,'  said  I, '  that  there  are  wicked 
spirits,  or  angels,  who  are  fallen  from  goodness  because 
they  left  God  and  became  wicked,  and  they  are  going 
about  making  people  do  wickedly.' 

" '  Oh !  laws,'  said  she,  '  I  knows  what  yer  means 
now.  Missis  say  he  be  in  de  niggers  all  de  time ;  an' 
dat  she  sees  um  stickin'  rite  out  ob  us.  But  I  jest 
t'inks  he 's  in  de  white  folks,  sum  ob  'em.  I  don't  mean 
you  and  Miss  Em'ly,  Mas'r  Frank ;  for  I  knows  dat 
de  good  angels  is  wid  you,  and  wid  her  all  de  time.' 

"  Emily  came  in  with  some  tea,  and  Julia  took 
several  mouthfuls. 

" '  She  is  much  better,  Emily,'  said  I. 

"  She  made  no  answer  ;  but  Julia  looked  up  to  me 
with  a  happy,  cheerful  expression,  that  went  to  my 
heart,  and  said :  '  Yes,  Master  Frank,  I  am  better,  and 
am  happy  ;  for  I  am  going  to  the  best  friend  I  ever 
had,  except  my  mother,  and  you  and  Miss  Emily. 
And  you  have  done  almost  all  you  can  for  me ;  for,  if 
I  should  get  well,  master  would  send  me  to  the  quar- 
ter-, and  I'd  a  good  deal  rather  die  than  to  look  at  the 
overseer  again;  he  has  haunted  me  ever  since  I  have 
been  on  the  place ;  and  then  I  can't  work.  My  old 
master's  new  wife  used  to  say  that  my  other  mistress 
had  spoiled  me ;  but  my  old  mistress  has  come  to  me 
now  ;  and  she  wants  me  to  tell  you  my  history ;  who  I 
am,  and  all  about  my  parents,  and  herself,  just  as  she 
told  it  to  me  before  she  died,  when  I  took  care  of  her. 
I  was  with  her  most  of  the  time.  Master  Devony 
wasn't  a  Christian,  and  somtimes  he  swore.  She 
didn't  want  anybody  with  her  but  me.  While  she 
was  sick,  and  when  I  was  watching  by  her,  she  used 
to  lie  on  the  sofa,  or  sit  in  the  easy-chair,  and   tell  me 


DEATH  OF  iHE  SLAVE  GIRL.  103 

all  about  giy  father  and  mother;  and  she  prayed  a 
great  deal ;  she  prayed  for  everybody ;  but  she  always 
prayed  that  the  Lord  would  take  care  of  me,  and  not 
let  anybody  abuse  me ;  and  that,  if  I  should  ever  be 
sold,  that  the  Lord  would  take  care  of  me,  and  take 
me  up  to  heaven.' 

" '  But  I  am  afraid,'  said  I,  '  that  it  will  tire  you.' 

"  '  Oh !  no,'  she  replied ;  and  she  shut  her  eyes.  In 
a  few  minutes  she  opened  them,  and  said :  '  No,  it  will 
not  tire  me,  for  they  are  lending  me  strength,  and  my 
mistress  wants  me  to  tell  it  all  to-day.'  Shutting  her 
eyes,  she  said :  '  Oh,  how  bright !  but  her  head  is 
turned ;  and  she  is  pointing  that  way ; '  and  Julia 
poinjjpd  towards  my  uncle's  room. 

"  Instantly  Emily  arose,  left  the  room,  and,  in  about 
twenty  minutes,  returned,  with  her  father  leaning  upon 
her  arm.  During  the  time  Emily  was  gone,  Julia  had 
lain  with  her  eyes  closed.  Mr.  Le  Rux  was  pale. 
He  stopped,  as  he  passed  the  bed,  and  looked  at  Julia. 
He  trembled ;  a  tear  stood  in  his  eye ;  he  turned,  and 
seated  himself  upon  the  sofa.  At  Julia's  request, 
Emily  and  Dinah  raised  her  in  bed,  and  placed  pillows 
at  her  back. 

" ;  May  I  begin  now  ? '  asked  Julia. 

" '  Yes,'  replied  Emily ;  and,  while  the  poor  slave- 
girl  related  her  story,  Emily  took  it  down  in  writing. 
This  narrative,  which  is  a  history  in  miniature  of  the 
De  Wolfe  family,  I  here  enclose. 

"  I  shall  communicate  with  you  again  soon  in  rela- 
tion to  events  at  our  house.     In  the  meantime,  farewell. 

Frank  Lf.  Rux." 


CHAPTER 


THE     NARRATIVE    OF     MRS.    DEVON V,     THE      FORMER     MIS- 

' 
TRESS    OF    JULIA    DE  WOLFE,  AND    FAMITyTaS  RELATED 

BY    MRS.    DEVONY    TO    JULIA    DE    WOLFE,    BEFORE     MRS. 

DEVONY'S      DEATH. RECAPITULATED       BY      JULIA      DF. 

WOLFE    WHEN    ABOUT    TO    DIE. 

"  I  was  born,"  said  Mrs.  Devony,  "  some  twenty 
miles  from  New  Orleans.  My  father's  name  was  De 
Wolfe.  Your  mother,  Julia,  was  a  mulatto.  TETer 
mother  was  nurse  in  my  father's  family.  Your  mother 
was  near  about  my  own  age,  and  her  mother  nursed  us 
both.  We  were  suffered  to  play  together,  and  loved 
each  other  much.  At  a  proper  age,  your  mother  be- 
came my  waiting-maid,  according  to  the  wish  of  my 
parents ;  but  she  always  seemed  to  me  more  like  a  sis- 
ter than  a  servant.  As  she  slept  in  my  room,  we  passed 
our  time  mostly  together,  loving  each  other  with  an 
affection  stronger,  if  anything,  than  that  which  exists 
between  sisters.  I  taught  her  many  things  without  the 
knowledge  of  my  mother. 

"  I  had  a  brother,  Albert,  older  than  myself.  He  had 
been  in  Europe,  and  returned  when  your  mother  was 
sixteen  years  old.     He  had  been  at  home  but  a  few 

weeks,  when  my  parents  sent  me  to  school  in  II , 

and  I  was  absent  one  year.  (Here  Julia  closed  her 
eyes  as  if  to  see  her  guardian  spirit,  and  immediately 
upon  opening  them,  resumed   her  narrative.)     During 

(104) 


THE   DE  WOLFF,    FAMILY.  105 

this  time  my  brother  became  enamoured  of  your 
mother,  and  seduced  her.  This  she  made  known  to 
me  as  soon  as  I  returned,  adding,  as  she  told  me,  how 
much  she  loved  Albert ;  that  he  loved  her  too,  and  that 
he  had  sworn  never  to  forsake  her,  but  see  that  she 
was  well  treated  and  never  sold. 

"  In  aboutnve  months  after  you  were  born,  your 
father  was  found  to  be  in  a  decline.  At  the  earnest 
entreaty  of  your  mother,  who  acted  her  part  at  the  in- 
stigation of  Albert,  she  was  allowed  to  remain  in  my 
room,  and  nurse  her  own  child.  I  used  to  have  as 
much  care  of  you  as  your  mother,  and  it  was  there  I 
first  learned  to  love  you.  Your  father  loved  you  too. 
Oh !  how  I  have  seen  his  eyes  fixed  upon  you  and  your 
mother.  Oh !  how  I  have  seen  your  mother's  eyes 
riveted  upon  him.  I  think  she  did  not  know,  at  that 
time,  of  the  relationship  between  herself  and  Albert; 
for  you  must  know,  Julia,  that  they  had  the  same 
father.     Your  mother  was  our  half-sister. 

"  Well,  your  father  died,  and  Mary  (your  mother), 
was  almost  frantic.  The  day  before  he  died,  he  told 
me  he  was  failing  fast,  and  desired  me  to  call  our 
father.  After  he  came  to  the  room,  Albert  had  a  turn 
of  coughing ;  we  thought  he  would  choke  to  death, 
and  were  on  the  point  of  calling  in  my  mother,  but  he 
shook  his  head,  and  motioned  us  to  remain.  He 
revived,  and  after  a  few  minutes,  spoke  as  follows : 

" '  Father,  I  am  about  to  die.  I  have  sinned  against 
Heaven.'  He  hesitated,  and  then  added :  '  Would  that 
I  could  say,  in  thy  sight,  but  I  know  not  whether  I  can 
say  it,  nor  do  I  know  whether  you  consider  it  a  sin.' 
He  then  asked,  '  Does  my  mother  know  that  you  are 
the  father  of  my  Mary  ? ' 


106  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  My  father  at  this  question  was  greatly  agitated, 
but  answered, '  No.'  And,  Julia,  this  was  the  first  inti- 
mation I  had  of  the  fact  that  your  mother  was  my  sister. 

"  '  Well,  then,'  said  Albert,  '  I  do  not  wish  to  distress 
her.  Father,'  he  continued,  '  my  sins  are,  perhaps, 
more  heavy  than  yours ;  for  I  have  not  only  been 
guilty  of  breaking  one  commandment,  but  Mary  is  my 
sister!  This  I  learned,  after  I  had  injured  her,  from 
your  own  lips,  having  overheard  you  in  conversation  with 
the  old  nurse.  It  is  that  knowledge  which  has  brought 
me  down  to  the  grave  in  my  youth.  Had  it  not  been 
for  that  knowledge,  I  would  have  compassed  sea  and 
land,  before  I  would  have  deserted  Mary ;  for  I  solemnly 
swear  that  I  love  her  better  than  I  do  my  own  life  ! 

"  '  This  thing  of  slavery  J  he  continued, '  would  curse 
a  world,  and  might,  methinks,  cause  the  sun  to  hide  his 
face  a  second  time1.  It  will  send  its  supporters  to  hell, 
where  they  will  "weep,  and  wail,  and  gnash  their 
teeth,"  while  they  behold  their  poor  slaves  "  in  Abra- 
ham's bosom."  I  have  repented,  father,  before  Heaven ; 
and,  could  I  have  lived,  I  would  have  done  all  in  my 
power  to  have  made  reparation  before  the  world,  by 
doing  everything  I  could  to  remove  the  unholy  system 
of  slavery  from  the  length  and  breadth  of  this  guilty 
land !  Woe !  woe !  woe  ! '  he  continued,  '  Woe  to  the 
inhabitants  of  America !  Woe  to  those  who  deal  in 
souls  —  who  convert  the  image  of  God  into  a  thing  — 
causing  agony  and  desolation,  sorrow  and  death,  to 
millions ! ' 

"  Fixing  his  large,  glowing  eyes  steadily  upon  my 
father,  who  was  shaking  like  an  aspen-leaf  in  a  hurri- 
cane, he  uttered  these  words  :  '  Repent !  repent !  The 
nation  is  accursed,  if  this  unholy  thing  be  not  removed. 


THE   DE  WOLFE   FAMILY.  107 

But,  father,  thou  hast  yet  time  ;  repent !    Loose  every 
yoke,  and  let  thy  oppressed  ones  go  free.' 

"  He  was  exhausted.  I  sprang  forward,  and  gently 
replaced  him  upon  his  pillow.  My  father  was  utterly 
powerless  to  move ;  his  face  was  covered  with  his 
hands,  and  I  was  fearful  that  he  would  fall.  I  placed 
a  chair  behind  him,  and,  taking  hold  of  his  shoulder, 
he  dropped  into  it,  his  hands  still  covering  his  face.  I 
knew  not  what  sustained  me  ;  but  I  was  in  a  measure 
calm.  I  took  Albert's  hand ;  it  was  cold.  He  raised 
my  hand  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it ;  and,  as  I  bent  my 
head,  he  said :  '  Seek  the  Lord,  Emma,  and  meet  me 
in  heaven,  "  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and 
the  weary  are  at  rest." '  He  then  added,  'Will  you 
call  my  mother  ?  * 

"  I  left  the  room,  and,  in  a  few  moments,  returned 
with  my  mother.  My  father  had  arisen  from  his  chair 
during  my  absence,  and  was  standing  by  the  bed  when 
I  came  in.  Albert's  hand  was  in  his,  and  I  judged 
they  had  been  speaking.  I  never  knew  the  subject  of 
their  conversation,  but  imagined  it  was  of  my  mother. 
My  mother  was  much  affected,  and,  as  she  bent  over 
the  bed,  bitter  tears  coursed  down  her  cheeks.  Albert 
kissed  her,  arid  called  her  his  own  dear  mother.  Then 
he  said :  '  Oh !  mother,  how  I  remember  your  gentle 
nature,  as  I  beheld  you  in  my  childhood  and  boyhood 
days.  Well  do  I  remember  your  arguments,  your 
struggles  against  slavery;  but  you  were  obliged  to 
N  yield  to  circumstances.  Little  by  little  has  slavery 
plucked  that  good  seed  from  your  heart,  and  in  its 
place  sown  thorns  and  thistles.  I  have  beheld  the 
sadness  of  your  heart ;  I  have  seen  pettishness,  and  its 
attendant  evils,  when  I  have  thought  there  was  nothing 


108  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

but  love  in  your  nature ;  but  it  is  only  now  that  I  have 
been  able  to  understand  fully  what  you  have  suffered. 
In  your  own  native  France  I  heard  your  praises.  1 
was  ushered  into  society,  and  received  by  the  great, 
the  good,  the  wise,  and  the  virtuous,  with  warmth,  be- 
cause I  was  the  son  of  her  whom  they  remembered  as 
amiable,  benevolent,  and  intellectual.  But,  alas  !  what 
hast  thou  done,  Monster  Slavery !  I  behold,  every- 
where, bleeding  hearts  and  ruined  souls.  O  mother ! 
mother!  let  those  beware  who  reverse  the  order  of 
nature's  laws !  My  father  took  thee  an  angel ;  he  has 
made  thee  what  thou  art.  Nothing  remains  for  thee 
now  but  to  spend  thy  remaining  days  in  preparing  for 
eternity.  O  mother !  mother,  dear  mother,  I  remember 
thee  only  as  thou  wast  once;  meet  me  as  such  in 
eternity.' 

"  He  was  exhausted,  and  sunk  back  upon  his  pillow. 
After  lying  quietly  some  minutes,  he  said  to  me,  '.Bring 
in  Mary  and  my 'child.' 

"  Mary  entered  with  you  in  her  arms.  She  was 
pale,  and  her  eyes  were  swollen  from  excessive  weeping. 
My  father  and  mother  stood  back,  and  allowed  her  to 
approach.  Oh!  how  she  trembled!  She  laid  her  hand 
upon  his.  Six-  wept,  .she  kissed  his  lips,  and  gave  way 
to  agony  unutterable.    ■ 

" '  Be  calm,  Mary,'  said  he ;  for  my  sake,  for  your 
own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  our  child,  be  calm.'  Mary 
did  compose  herself  somewhat.  '  Hand  me  my  Bible, 
Emma,'  said  he.  After  I  had  brought  it,  he  said,  '  Lay, 
it  upon  my  breast.  Place  your  hand  upon  it,  dear 
father,'  said  he.  My  father  having  done  so,  Albert  con- 
tinued: 'You  swear,  in  the  presence  of  God,  that 
Mary  and  my  child  shall  never  be  sold ;  thai  thej  shall 


THE  DE  WOLFE   FAMILY.  109 

be  kindly  treated ;  that  they  shall  be  taught  to  read 
and  write ;  that,  in  case  they  outlive  you,  they  shall 
belong  to  Emma,  and  remain  with  her ;  that,  in  case 
they  outlive  Emma,  they  shall  receive  such  portion  of 
property  from  you  as  would  have  been  mine,  and  that 
then  they  shall  be  taken  to  a  free  State  and  emanci- 
pated.' 

"  My  father  answered  thus :  '  I  do  most  solemnly 
swear,  in  the  presence  of  God,  as  I  hope  for  forgiveness 
and  an  entrance  into  heaven,  that  I  will  fulfil  all  that 
you  desire/ 

"  My  father  stepped  back  and  my  mother  also  laid 
her  hand  upon  the  Bible,  and  took  the  same  oath. 

0  It  was  now  my  turn.  I  approached  with  awe,  but 
with  a  full  determination  to  fulfil  to  the  letter  all  that 
I  promised.  I  placed  my  hand  upon  the  Bible.  '  Em- 
ma,' said  Albert, '  will  you  swear  to  continue  to  be 
what  you  have  been  to  Mary  and  my  child,  and  that  you 
will  fulfil  what  may  devolve  upon  you,  in  the  oath 
which  father  and  mother  have  just  taken:  that  you 
will  see  that  my  child  be  taught  to  read  and  write ; 
that  she  be  instructed  as  to  truth,  and  led  in  the  paths 
of  virtue  and  religion.  O  Emma,'  said  he,  '  see  that 
she  be  instructed  in  such  a  manner,  that  she  learn  to 
obey  God ;  then  she  will  meet  me  in  heaven.'  I  took 
the  oath  in  the  most  cheerful,  though  solemn  manner. 

"  He  beckoned  to  Mary,  and  her  hand  was  readily 
placed  upon  the  Bible.  Fixing  his  eyes  steadily  upon 
her,  my  brother  said :  '  Mary,  I  love  you,  and  hope  to 
meet  you  in  heaven !  I  have  wronged  you ;  but  I 
have  repented,  and  God  has  forgiven  me.  That  is  my 
child,'  he  continued ;  '  I  love  her,  and  hope  to  meet  her 

10 


110  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

in  a  better  world  than  this.  You  have  heard  the  oath, 
and  understand  its  nature  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  Mary,  while  the  tears  again  broke  forth. 

"  '  Will  you  swear,'  said  he,  '  never  to  marry  again, 
unless  you  be  joined  in  the  holy  bands  of  wedlock,  ac- 
cording to  the  civil  law ;  and  that  you  will  remain  with 
your  present  master  so  long  as  you  are  well  treated 
and  he  imparts  good  instruction  to  our  child  ? ' 

"  Mary  took  the  oath,  although  her  words  were 
choked  with  sobs.  She  dropped  upon  her  knees  by  the 
bed.  '  Poor  Mary,'  said  Albert, '  you  will  meet  me  in 
heaven.'  She  arose  in  tears.  '  God  bless  you,  and 
our  child,'  continued  Albert. 

•  As  Mary  leaned  forward  to  catch  his  words,  she 
unconsciously  loosened  her  hold  upon  you,  Julia.  You 
reached  forward,  and  laid  your  hand  on  the  Bible. 

" '  See,  Emma,'  said  Albert.  '  See,  Mary,  Julia  has 
taken  the  oath;  she  will  rather  die  than  be  dishonored. 
She  will  be  a  true  woman,  and  meet  me  in  heaven.' 
Ail  or  he  had  finished  speaking,  he  closed  his  eyes. 

" '  He  must  sleep,  Mary,'  said  I,  as  I  took  you  from 
her  arms;  but  she  moved  not.  At  length,  she  again 
dropped  upon  her  knees,  and  leaned  her  head  upon  the 
bed.  You  was  soon  asleep.  It  was  now  evening  and 
my  father  and  mother  retired,  at  my  request,  to  seek 
rest. 

"  Mary  remained  in  her  position  for  nearly  an  hour 
while  Albert  slept.  For  some  time  I  could  hear  her 
sobs,  but  I  was  more  fearful  of  disturbing  Albert  by 
attempting  to  remove  her,  than  by  letting  her  remain. 
Besides,  it  did  not  seem  right  for  me  to  disturb  her. 
Albert  awoke,  and  instantly  she  was  upon  her  feet. 
She  looked  calmly  in  his  face,  and  said: 


THE   DE  WOLFE    FAMILY.  1  L  1 

"  « Dear  Albert,  I  have  been  wicked ;  I  have  thought 
that  I  would  not  live,  after  you  were  dead.  But  I 
have  been  praying  that  the  Lord  would  give  me 
strength,  and  teach  me  what  is  right.  It  is  right  for 
you  to  go  first,  for  it  is  his  will.  It  is  right  for  me  to 
remain  for  the  sake  of  our  child,  and  I  am  submissive. 
I  feel  that  I  can  stay,  and  do  my  duty,  until  God  calls 
me.' 

" '  It  is  for  that  I  have  prayed,'  said  Albert. . 

"  Mary  took  you  up  carefully,  and  seated  herself  by 
the  bed.     You  still  slept. 

" '  Bring  my  picture,  Emma,'  said  Albert. 

"  He  took  it,  and  handed  it  to  Mary.  It  was  taken 
before  his  sickness,  and  looked  as  he  did  when  he  re- 
turned from  Europe.  He  then  took  the  Bible,  and 
handed  it  to  her  also ;  saying,  '  Read  it  yourself,  and, 
when  Julia  can  read,  give  it  to  her.' 

"  He  then  sank  into  another  slumber,  while  Mary 
still  watched.  In  about  an  hour,  he  awoke  again.  He 
had  a  severe  turn  of  coughing,  and  was  much  troubled 
to  breathe.  After  taking  some  Expectorant,  however, 
he  was  easier. 

"  I  proposed  calling  our  parents ;  he  shook  his  head, 
and  motioned  me  to  sit  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed. 
He  then  seemed  to  sleep  again. 

"  When  he  awoke  he  called  for  water,  drank,  and 
then  asked  us  to  take  each  his  hand.  It  was  now  past 
midnight.  In  about  another  hour  he  opened  his  eyes, 
grasped  our  hands  tighter  —  I  heard  a  hoarse  rattling 
in  his  throat  —  there  was  a  smile,  and  a  whispered  fare- 
well —  his  hands  relaxed,'  and  Albert  was  dead ! 

"  All  Mary's  firmness  forsook  her  in  an  instant.  She 
threw  herself  upon  Albert's  body,  and  uttered  a  wild, 


112  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

piercing  shriek,  which  immediately  brought  my  father 
to  the  room. 

"  I  had  not  power  to  move ;  my  firmness  was  also 
gone.  My  father  stopped  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
and  stood  with  his  hands  motionless  by  his  side,  gazing 
at  the  scene. 

"  At  length  my  lips  moved,  and  I  uttered  the  word 
'  dead ! '  My  father  staggered  to  a  chair,  which  was 
near  the  bed,  dropping  into  it  mechanically.  He 
looked  a  moment  upon  the  lifeless  form  of  Albert; 
then,  lifting  his  hands,  and  covering  his  eyes,  he  said : 
4 This  for  me!  O  God!  O  God!  Albert!  Albert!  this 
is  not  all;  this  is  not  my  only  sin.  Away  on  the 
accursed  Red  River,  there  are  three  more  sold,  to  drag 
out  life  under  the  lash  —  to  die,  to  be  murdered,  and 
meet  me  in  judgment,  with  blood !  blood !  blood ! 
See!'  he  Said,  placing   his  hands  closer  to  his  eyes. 

11  Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  as  my  mother's 
footsteps  sounded  upon  the  stairs,  and  left  the  room  at 
an  opposite  door."  [  Here  Julia  was  interrupted  in 
her  narrative  by  the  sudden  illness  of  Emily's  father, 
which  Dinah  had  discovered,  and  immediately  made 
known  to  Emily.  All  eyes  were  instantly  turned  upon 
him.  He  was  pale,  his  hands  were  pressed  upon  his 
chest,  and  agony  was  portrayed  in  every  feature.  As 
Emily  approached  him,  he  grasped  her  hand  convul- 
sively, and  endeavored  to  rise  to  his  feet.  Frank  lent 
him  his  arm.  He  motioned  Emily  to  remain,  and  went 
with  Frank  to  his  room.  Upon  reaching  it,  Frank, 
having  placed  him  a  chair,  threw  open  the  window,  and 
gave  him  some  water.  His  uncle  drank  some,  opened 
his  vest,  drew  a  few  long  breaths,  reclined  his  head  back 
in  his  chair,  and  remained  in  that  position  some  min- 


THE    DB  WOLFE   FAMILY.  113 

/ 

utes,  —  then,  extending  his  hand,  said,  "  Frank,  you 
may  leave  me ;  my  faintness  is  past.  But  I  wish  to  be 
present  when  Julia  resumes  her  narrative." 

Something  like  an  hour  was  occupied  with  dinner. 
All  seemed  intent  with  their  own  thoughts.  Mrs. 
Le  Rux  remarked,  however,  that  to  morrow  was  the  day 
for  her  husband's  return,  and  she  thought  he  was  needed 

at  home,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the  d .  She  stopped  as 

she  glanced  at  Emily  and,  with  a  "  hem ! "  said  she  was 
not  well. 

"  Cannot  I  do  something  for  you?"  said  Emily. 

"  I  will  seek  rest,"  was  my  mother's  reply,  as  she 
took  her  way  to  her  room. 

Emily  went  to  her  room,  while  Frank  went  for  his 
uncle.  Dinah  was  just  decending  the  stairs  as  he  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  seeing  him,  remarked : 

"  July  sleep  all  de  while  you  gon',  Mas'r  Frank. 
Oh!  law,  mas'r,  she  jes'  looks  so  sweet,  jes'  like  an 
angel.  Oh!  de  angel  is  dar'  yet;  I  knows  July's  goin'. 
But,"  continued  she,  "  how  skared  Miss  Em'ly's  fader 
was  'bout  July.  Ain't  it  rael  awrful,  Mas'r  Frank,  to 
hear  all  'bout  Albert  an'  Mary  ?  I 's  seen  t'ousands 
sich,  way  on  de  Red  Riber,  when  I  lib  with  ole  mas'r 
down  dar ;  and  ]  hern  ole  mas'r  tell  um,  too,  dat  dey 
'appen  all  roun'  on  de  plantations  dar." 

Frank  found  his  uncle  on  the  veranda.  He  was 
yet  pale.  He  took  his  arm,  and,  without  speaking,  they 
ascended  the  stairs,  and  entered  Emily's  chamber. 
Julia  was  awake.  There  was  a  cheerful  expression 
upon  her  countenance.  She  had  been  speaking  with 
Emily,  and  as  they  entered,  Julia  said,  "  Wear  it  for 
my  sake,  dear  Miss  Emily." 
10* 


114  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

\ 

"  Are  you  not  too  much  fatigued,  to  continue  your 
narrative  ? '  Frank  inquired  of  Julia. 

"  No,  Master  Frank,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  strong ;  I 
am  growing  stronger  all  the  time.  I  must  finish  it  all 
to  day,"  and  she  immediately  commenced,  where  she 
left  off,  saying:] 

" '  My  mother  entered  the  room  hurriedly,  and,  before 
she  had  time  to  look,  inquired  if  Albert  Was  worse,  at 
the  same  time  stepping  towards  the  bed.  Mary  was 
yet  utterly  unable  to  control  herself,  for  she  groaned 
and  sobbed  aloud.  '  Mary '  said  my  mother, '  this  is  out 
of  place.  Hush,  I  say.'  Mary  stepped  aside,  and,  as 
she  did  so,  disclosed  the  rigid  features  of  her  Albert. 

"  My  mother  staggered  back,  and,  grasping  a  chair 
for  support,  fell  senseless  upon  the  floor. 

"  I  endeavored  to  raise  her,  but  finding  I  could  not, 
1  said,  '  Help,  Mary !  water.  My  mother  has  fainted.' 
When  my  mother  revived,  I  turned  to  look  for  Mary. 
There  she  was  again  kneeling  beside  the  bed.  I  felt 
that  it  would  not  be  best  to  disturb  her.  I,  therefore, 
rang  for  the  servants,  and  had  my  mother  conveyed  to 
her  own  room.  You,  Julia,  awoke  and  cried ;  but  still 
Mary  did  not  move.  '  Is  she  dead  ? '  thought  I,  as  I 
approached  and  put  my  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  She 
turned  and  looked ;  her  face  betrayed  no  perceptible 
overflow  of  feeling.  Rising,  she  said  :  '  It  is  past ;  it  is 
all  right,  Emma.  The  Lord  will  be  my  support.  I 
will  remain  here  until  you  seek  your  parents.' 

"  Mary  remained  tranquil  until  the  day  of  the  funeral. 
I  knew  she  longed  to  follow  Albert's  remains  to  their 
last  resting-place ;  but  it  could  not  be.  She  must  not 
be  known  as  his  dear  Mary.  He  was  buried  with  all 
the  pomp  and  show  which  my  parents  and  a  large  con- 


THE   DE  WOLFE    FAMILY.  115 

course  of  sympathizing  friends  could  possibly  bestow. 
But  who  of  these  sympathizers  knew  that  Albert  De 
Wolfe  had  died  of  a  broken  heart,  induced  by  the  guilt 
of  slavery  and  the  transgression  of  his  father  ? 

"  Mary  was  never  after  permitted  to  speak  of  Albert 
in  my  mother's  presence,  but  to  me  she  poured  out  her 
heart.  My  father  seemed  to  wish  to  be  kind  to  her,  but 
my  mother  treated  her  with  studied  coldness.  I  learned 
from  my  nurse  that,  during  the  excitement  of  Albert's 
death,  my  father  had  betrayed  the  secret  of  Mary's 
parentage  to  my  mother,  under  the  hope  of  inducing 
her  to  be  more  kind  to  her ;  but  he  found  that  he  had 
made  a  great  mistake,  as  it  had  an  entirely  contrary 
effect. 

"  Poor  Mary  took  but  little  comfort  afterwards,  while 
she  remained  with  them.  Upon  my  marriage,  however, 
Mary  and  you,  Julia,  lived  with  me.  Our  new  home 
was  but  about  twenty  miles  from  my  father's.  You 
were  then  about  three  years  old. 

"  After  our  removal,  your  mother  became  happy. 
She  was  faithful  to  her  promise,  striving  with  all  her 
power  to  improve  her  own  mind  and  to  instruct  you. 
When  you  were  about  seven  years  old,  so  rapidly  had 
you  progressed,  that  you  could  read  the  Bible,  which 
was  your  father's.  This  was  a  cause  of  great  gratifi- 
cation to  us. 

"  Both  Mary  and  you  attended  me  in  my  frequent 
visits  at  home  for  the  first  year,  during  which  time  I 
found  my  mother  growing  more  and  more  melancholy. 

"  She  requested  me  not  to  bring  Mary  with  me  any 
more.  'Not,'  said  she,  'that  I  have  aught  against 
Mary,  but  my  heart  has  been  stricken  and  pierced  year 
after  year,  until  it  bleeds  at  every  pore.     This  new  blow 


116  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

has  given  the  fatal  wound ;  it  opens  afresh  every  hour, 
and  I  cannot  command  myself.  May  you  never  know,' 
she  would  say,  '  by  experience  what  your  mother  has 
suffered.  Happy  was  I,  when  I  wedded  your  father, 
Albert  De  Wolfe ;  full  of  hope  was  I,  when  I  crossed  the 
proud  Atlantic  to  seek  a  home  in  the  New  World; 
sorrow-stricken  was  I,  when  I  was  forced  to  become  the 
wife  of  a  slaveholder  ;  horrified  was  I,  when  I  saw  the 
idol  of  my  affections  become  so  debased  as  to  deal  in 
human  beings  as  he  would  in  cattle ;  broken-hearted 
was  I,  when  Jeanette,  a  beautiful  house-servant,  flew 
to  me  for  protection  from  his  brutal  assaults  upon  her 
person  ;  maddened  was  I,  when  I  saw  him  crush  her  to 
the  earth,  because  she  dared  to  make  an  appeal  to  me ; 
goaded  to  desperation  was  I,  when  I  saw  that  he  did 
not  attempt  to  hide  from  my  only  son,  Albert,  the  un- 
holy doings  on  the  plantation.  My  brain  whirled, 
when,  at  my  entreaty  in  behalf  of  my  child,  he  met 
me  with  a  mocking  sneer.  Ere  I  knew  it,  I  sprang 
upon  him,  and  seized  him  by  the  hair,  while  I  poured 
forth  my  indignation.  Stricken,  indeed,  was  I  to  my 
very  soul.  From  that  hour,  nothing  in  life  has  had  a 
charm  for  me,  I  have  lived  and  moved,  moved  and 
lived,  fearing  for  my  reason.  When  your  father  saw 
the  change  that  came  over  me — that  I  was  feverish  and 
melancholy,  he  pretended  a  reformation.  I  say  he  pre- 
tended, beca'use  I  never  had  the  most  faint  hope  that 
he  would  reform.' 

"  When  you,  Julia,  was  twelve  years  old,  both  my 
father  and  mother  died  suddenly  of  cholera,  as  did 
many  of  the  slaves  on  the  plantation.  Old  nurse  Cyn- 
thia, Mary's  mother,  died  also. 

"  Upon  an  examination  of  my  father's  affairs,  it  was 


THE   DE  WOLFE   FAMILY.  117 

found  that  the  estate  was  involved,  and  that  there  was 
but  little  left  except  Albert's  portion,  which  I  was  to 
use  while  you  and  your  mother  remained  with  me.  In 
respect  to  this,  my  father  had  been  true  to  his  oath. 
He  made  out  the  papers,  and  placed  them  in  the  hands 
of  the  physician  who  attended  him  in  his  last  sickness. 
The  sudden  death  of  my  parents  and  my  grief  at  the 
event,  you  remember,  Julia.  Mary  was  also  grieved ; 
she  seemed  to  have  a  foreboding  of  evil.  I  strove  to 
dispel  it  from  her  mind,  and  make  her  more  cheerful. 
'  See,  Mary,'  said  I,  '  the  oath  my  father  took  is  fulfiled 
thus  far,  and  certainly  you  can  trust  me.' 

"  Sextus  Devony,  my  husband,  did  not  seem  satisfied. 
My  father  had  been  supposed  to  be  very  rich  ;  but  he 
had  met  with  some  heavy  losses  at  sea  within  the  last 
three  years.  This,  however,  was  not  known  by  his 
family,  and  it  was  only  discovered  by  an  examination 
of  his  papers,  after  his  death.  Mr.  Devony  was  sadly 
disappointed.  He  had  a  desire  for  '  fast  living,'  as  it  is 
termed,  and  sometimes  kept  late  hours;  but,  at  that 
time,  I  was  perfectly  confiding.  About  this  time  he 
became  morose,  was  more  from  home,  and  seemed  to 
have  taken  a  dislike  to  Mary.  He  complained  of  my 
having  become  a  recluse. 

"  My  mourning  days  for  my  parents  were  not  yet 
past ;  but  as  he  talked  of  my  becoming  melancholy,  I 
often  spent  days  with  friends.  One  day,  he  proposed 
my  riding  into  the  country  for  the  purpose  of  spending 
the  day,  adding,  that  I  had  better  take  you  with  me. 
He  said  he  had  an  appointment  at  home,  that  the 
coachman  might  drive  us  out,  and  bring  back  the  horses ; 
and  at  evening  he  would  come  and  attend  us  home. 

"  On  my  return,  I  found  Mary  in  her  chamber.     She 


IIS  THE    CTKSE    ENTAILED. 

had  evidently  been  weeping.  Never  shall  I  forget  the 
mournful  expression  of  her  countenance ;  it  will  attend 
me  every  day  of  my  life.  But  now  she  is  in  heaven, 
where  I  shall  soon  join  her.  Thinking  she  had  been 
lonely,  I  rallied  her  a  little. 

"  '  Mistress,'  said  she,  while  tears  coursed  down  her 
cheeks,  'do  not  take  Julia  away  again.  I  have  indeed 
been  lonely.'  Her  eyes  were  cast  to  the  floor,  and  she 
pronounced  the  now  sacred  name,  Albert.  She  was 
apparently  much  agitated,  and  arose  and  paced  the  floor 
for  some  moments.     Oh !  why  was  I  so  blind  ? 

"  From  this  time  there  was  a  settled  melancholy  upon 
hei  countenance,  and  my  husband  seemed  to  hate  her. 
His  moroseness  increased  to  me.  He  said  that  I  had 
spoiled  Mary  ;  that  it  was  all  a  foolish  business.  He 
finally  went  so  far  as  to  hint,  that  it  would  be  right  for 
him  to  break  the  will,  and  then  sell  Mary.  I  was  hor- 
rified, and,  for  several  minutes,  had  not  the  power  of  ut- 
terance. When  speech  returned,  I  told  him  of  her 
parentage,  that  she  was  my  half  sister.  I  told  him  of 
your  birth,  of  Albert's  death,  and  of  the  oath  I  had 
taken. 

"  In  place  of  manifesting  any  respect  for  what  I  had 
related,  he  broke  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  treated  the 
thing  in  the  most  trifling  manner  possible.  I  wept,  I 
expostulated ;  I  talked  of  right,  of  eternal  justice.  I 
was  almost  frantic,  but  he  remained  unmoved.  I  at 
length  said,  that  if  that  oath  were  broken,  my  heart 
would  break  also,  and  that  I  was  sure  Mary  would 
never  survive  it.  I  pointed  him  to  Albert's  death-scene 
—  I  pointed  to  the  judgment  —  to  the  spirits  of  the 
departed;  but  all  was  of  no  avail  —  his  laugh  only 
settled  into  a  sneer.     T  could  not  brook  this    levitv-     I 


THE   DE  WOLFE   FAMILY.  119 

arose  to  depart,  when  a  tremor  came  over  me.  Albert 
seemed  to  stand  before  me !  I  fancied  I  heard  him  say, 
'  Mary  is  pure ;  I  am  an  angel  now.  God  will  take 
her  soon ;  but  you  must  drink  a  bitter  cup ;  for  you 
were  the  child  of  a  slaveholder.'  I  think  there  was 
something  in  my  appearance  which  alarmed  my  hus- 
band ;  for  he  said,  while  he  led  me  to  a  sofa,  '  You 
take  my  jokes  too  seriously,  Emma,  I  wanted  to  try 
you.  I  find  you  have  a  true  heart ;  you  need  not  be 
alarmed  at  my  threats.' 

"  From  this  time,  he  was  much  from  home ;  and  he 
apologized  for  his  absence  by  saying  that  it  was  neces- 
sary in  order  to  settle  the  estate  of  my  father.  He 
came  home  one  evening  with  a  guest,  whom  he  intro- 
duced to  me  as  Mr.  Clayton.  Never  had  I  beheld  any 
one  to  whom  I  took  such  a  dislike.  His  whole  manner 
and  person  were  disgusting  to  me,  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word. 

"  Mr.  Devony  wanted  almost  everything  done. 
Mary  must  bring  this  and  that,  and  Mary  must  bring 
fruit  from  the  garden.  As  she  left  the  house,  my 
husband  and  Mr.  Clayton  seated  themselves  upon  the 
veranda,  and  entered  into  close  conversation.  I  was 
sensible  they  were  talking  about  Mary.  As  she  entered, 
and  was  about  handing  the  basket  to  my  husband,  Mr. 
Clayton  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
embarrass  her.  This  I  perceived,  and  my  indignation 
was  apparent  as  I  said,  '  Mary,  you  can  retire.'  I  saw 
a  frown  upon  my  husband's  countenance  ;  but  1  was 
too  indignant  to  speak,  and  left  the  room  without 
offering  any  apology.  I  did  not  make  my  appearance 
at  dinner,  and  that  afternoon  they  left. 

"  I  think  it  was  about  one  month  after  our  conver- 


120  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

sation  in  regard  to  Mary,  that  my  husband,  after  an 
absence  of  one  week  from  home,  sent  me  a  letter,  in- 
forming me  that  I  must  immediately  come  to  him,  as 
my  presence  was  necessary  on  some  point  coming  be- 
fore the  court,  in  regard  to  the  settlement  of  the  estate 
of  my  deceased  father.  I  knew  there  was  a  disputed 
claim  against  the  estate,  and  I  started-  the  next  morn- 
ing. When  I  met  him,  he  informed  me,  that  the  case 
would  not  come  on  as  soon  as  he  had  expected,  and 
that  I  would  be  detained  one  week.  I  saw  him  in 
company  with  Mr.  Clayton,  and  that  afternoon  he  left 
the  city.  He  did  not  return  until  the  next  evening. 
Julia,  you  know  the  rest ;  your  lips  first  told  me  that 
your  mother  was  gone,  that  she  had  been  forcibly  car- 
ried away  by  a  stranger.  Upon  going  to  her  room,  1 
found  the  Bible  which  Albert  had  given  her  upon  the 
table.  '  She  has  left  this  for  Julia,'  thought  I.  I  did 
not  then  know  that  she  had  left  your  father's  picture 
also. 

"  Oh !  how  desolate  was  I.  It  was  not  until  then 
that  I  learned  the  full  extent  of  my  sisterly  affection 
for  Mary.  I  could  scarcely  believe,  however,  that  she 
would  not  return.  I  expected  to  hear  her  footsteps 
upon  the  stairs ;  I  watched  at  the  window  for  her ;  I 
spent  sleepless  nights  and  wearisome  days ;  I  prayed 
for  her  return.  My  husband  did  not  come  home  for 
one  whole  week.  As  soon  as  he  entered  the  house,  I 
flew  to  him,  and,  falling  upon  my  knees,  I  conjured 
him,  by  everything  upon  earth  and  in  heaven,  to  tell  me 
where  Mary  had  gone.  I  begged  of  him,  as  he  hoped 
for  mercy,  not  to  keep  me  in  suspense.  Finding  that 
entreaties  would  do  no  good,  I  threatened.     I  told  him 


THE   DE  WOLFE   FAMILY.  121 

that  I  would  myself  seek  her,  that  I  would  prove  him  a 
kidnapper,  that  Mary  was  manumitted,  and  was  free. 

"  At  this  he  laughed  me  in  the  face,  and  said  exult- 
ingly :  '  Ah !  you  are  too  late,  Emma ;  I  have  been  too 
cunning  for  you.  You  are  an  heiress  now,  and,  instead 
of  thanking,  you  are  abusing  me.' 

" '  How  ? '  said  I,  as  I  looked  him  in  the  face. 

" '  Oh ! '  replied  he,  in  a  manner  and  tone  indicative 
of  great  satisfaction,  '  Mary  has  broken  her  oath  by 
this  time.  I  handed  her  over  to  the  right  chap.  1 
suppose,  when  he  dies,  there  will*  be  another  death 
scene.' 

" '  Monster ! '  said  I,  as  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and 
rushed  towards  him,  unconscious  for  the  moment  what 
I  did ;  '  from  this  moment  I  hate  you ! '  But  the  words 
were  lost  upon  him ;  for  he  drowned  my  voice  by  the 
words :  '  A  pretty  fuss  about  a  nigger?  And  I  was 
left  alone. 

"  I  staggered  to  a  chair.  At  this  moment,  all  the 
horrors  of  slavery  came  up  before  me.  I  paced  the 
room  —  I  groaned  —  I  agonized  !  Father  —  mother  — 
Albert;  I  seemed  to  see  them  all  again.  I  seemed 
to  stand  with  them  in  the  chamber  of  death.  I  saw 
their  dying  agony ;  I  saw,  also,  the  agony  of  the  living, 
'  And  why  all  this  ? !  said  I.  An  ocean  of  thought 
seemed  to  enter  my  soul.  Albert  had  sinned,  and 
why?  The  guilt  was  my  father's,  for  he  had  led  him 
on  by  example. 

"  Again  I  saw  my  father,  with  his  hands  before  his 
eyes,  as  if  he  dared  not  look  upon  his  dying  child  —  as 
if  he  dared  not  meet  the  gaze  of  my  mother;  and 
then  Mary,  and  you,  Julia,  the  wronged  ones.  Where, 
oh !  where  is  Mary  ?  My  sister  —  yes,  sister,  for  her 
11 


122  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

father  was  my  father,  and  I  loved  her.  Her  soul  was 
as  pure  as  mine ;  she  had  as  warm  a  heart  as  mine ; 
she  was  a  Christian;  she  loved  her  Saviour  —  he  had 
redeemed  her.     O  God !  protect  her. 

"  And  then  the  word  '  nigger,'  which  he  had  spoken, 
how  it  went  to  my  heart !  The  child  of  my  father  — 
and  he  dares  to  call  her  '  nigger ! '  And  Mary's  mother, 
Cynthia,  she  also  came  up  before  me.  What  was  her 
crime  ?  Had  she  committed  any  ?  Yet  she  and  my 
parents  all  died  of  the  same  disease,  and  what  is  the 
difference  ?  Have  they  not  all  gone  to  the  same  judg- 
ment? In  an  instant,  I  seemed  to  see  them  meet  at 
God's  tribunal.  Ah !  my  father  could  not  shade  his 
eyes  there.  There,  also,  was  Mary's  mother ;  but  there 
was  no  guilt  upon  her.  There  she  stood,  with  the 
same  mournful  expression  of  countenance  as  when  I 
last  saw  her ;  and  her  last  look  said  to  me  :  '  Oh !  do, 
good  young  mistress,  take  good  care  of  my  dear  Mary 
and  her  Julia.'  Her  face  was  lifted  up,  but  my  father's 
and  mother's  were  bowed  down. 

" '  Mary,  Mary !  where  are  you  now  ? '  thought  I,  as 
the  vision  faded  from  my  view.  The  perspiration 
stood  upon  my  face ;  at  that  instant  you  came  to  my 
room.  I  saw  you  had  been  weeping.  '  Is  your  master 
in  the  house  ? '  I  inquired ;  but  it  is  fresh  in  your 
memory.  You  informed  me  that  he  had  rode  away. 
I  knew  what  must  be  your  feelings  at  the  loss  of  your 
mother.  You  went  to  the  table  with  me,  but  food  was 
almost  untastcd. 

"Three  days  passed  away,  and  still  my  husband 
came  not.  I  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  his  presence  ; 
and  yet  I  longed  for  his  return,  in  hopfes  that  he  had 
repented;  and  would  bring  Mary  with  him. 


THE    DE  WOLFE    FAMILY.  12.'} 

"  On  the  fourth  day,  a  carriage  drove  slowly  to  the 
door.  My  husband  was  helped  out  into  the  house,  and 
to  his  own  room.  I  did  not  meet  him  —  my  feelings 
forbade  it  —  until  I  was  informed  that  he  wished  me 
to  attend  him.  I  found  him  more  ill  than  I  expected. 
The  physician  was  present,  and  I  strove  to  command 
myself. 

"  You  know  how  long  he  lay  hovering,  as  it  were, 
between  life  and  death.  He  talked  of  dying,  and  was 
sometimes  delirious,  and  talked  incoherently  of  Mary. 
I  strove  to  catch  his  words,  but  could  learn  nothing 
satisfactory. 

"  As  he  began  to  recover,  he  seemed  to  wish  to 
speak  kindly  to  me ;  but  I  felt  nothing  but  horror  in 
his  presence. 

"  One  night  I  was  summoned  to  his  room.  I  found 
him  sitting  up;  I  expressed  no  joy,  for  I  felt  none. 
'  Emma,'  said  he,  as  if  somewhat  pained  at  my  cold- 
ness, '  have  you  no  congratulatory  words  to  offer  upon 
my  having  so  far  recovered  from  a  sick  bed  as  to  be 
able  to  meet  you  in  this  chair  ? ' 

"  '  If  I  could  feel,  sir,'  replied  I,  '  that  by  living  you 
could  atone  for  your  past  guilt,  and  do  all  in  your 
power  to  undo  the  wrongs  you  have  done,  and  at  last 
become  better  prepared  to  meet  your  God,  I  could  re- 
joice at  your  recovery.' 

"  I  expressed  no  sympathy  for  him,  for  I  felt  none. 
This  he  perceived,  and  I  think,  was  stung  by  it ;  for  he 
dropped  his  head,  remained  silent  a  few  moments,  and 
then,  raising  it,  motioned  me  to  sit  by  him. 

"  I  did  not  move ;  something  held  me  back ;  I  felt 
that  he  was  a  murderer,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
could  not  approach  him. 


124  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  After  a  few  minutes,  during  which  time  my  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  floor,  he  said,  '  Perhaps  I  have 
done  wrong,  Emma ;  I  did  not  think  you  loved  the  girl 
so  well.' 

"  '  Sir,'  said  I,  as  I  looked  him  in  the  eye,  '  I  loved 
Mary  as  a  sister,  for  such  she  was.  The  wrong  you 
have  done  to  me,  is  of  no  account,  compared  with  the 
wrong  you  have  done  her — that  will  haunt  you  through 
an  eternity.' 

" '  But  will  you  not  forgive  me  ? '  said  he,  as  he  ex- 
tended his  hand. 

"  Never !  until  you  have  given  me  every  particular  in 
regard  to  Mary's  abduction ;  not  until  you  have  restored 
her  to  me ;  not  until  you  have  repented,  and  sought 
and  found  forgiveness  of  God.' 

" '  Emma,'  said  he,  '  listen  to  me,  and  hear  what  I 
have  to  say  in  extenuation  of  my  conduct.  If  slavery 
be  right,  then  have  I  done  no  wrong,  except  to  you.  I 
had  expected  several  thousand  dollars,  when  your  father 
should  die,  and  had  made  my  calculations  accordingly ; 
judge  then  of  my  surprise,  when  I  found  that  there 
was  scarcely  anything  except  what  would  have  gone  to 
Albert,  and  that  was  left  to  Mary.  I  immediately  called 
upon  your  father's  attorney  and  learned  the  strength  of 
the  will.  I  found  that  it  all  depended  upon  Mary's  re- 
maining true  to  her  oath.  I  then  knew  there  was  but 
one  way,  and  that  was  to  render  her  unworthy  your 
patronage.  I  endeavored  to  make  her  submit  to  my 
will,  with  the  intention  of  exciting  your  jealousy.  In 
this  I  did  not  succeed,  and  I  was  then  determined  to 
have  my  revenge.  I  decoyed  you  from  home,  and  then 
sold  her  to  Clayton,  who,  I  thought,  would  humble  her.' 


THE   DE  WOLFE   FAMILY.  125 

" '  And  where  is  she  now  ? '  said  I,  as  I  sprang  to  my 
feet. 

" '  Be  calm,  Emma,'  said  he,  '  it  is  no  more  than 
what  takes  place,  somewhere,  every  day.  You  will 
take  the  thing  wrong  if  you  make  a  fuss  about  it. 
Her  new  master  undertook  to  subject  her,  and  she 
threw  herself  into  the  Mississippi,  and  was  drowned.' 

" '  And  is  now  in  heaven,'  said  I,  '  with  her  dear 
Albert,  who  loved  her.  There  you  will  never  go ;  and, 
at  the  judgment,  they  will  be  thine  accusers.  Thou 
wilt  be  shut  out  from  mercy,  and  thou  wilt  "  weep,  and 
wail,  and  gnash  thy  teeth." '  I  walked  the  room 
violently,  calling  down  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  upon" 
his  guilty  head.  He  looked  deadly  pale.  I  left  him 
and  flew  to  my  room. 

" '  Where,  oh !  where  shall  I  go  ? '  said  I.  Again  the 
horrors  of  slavery  came  up  before  me,  and  the  words, 
'  it  is  no  more  than  happens  every  day,'  sounded  in  my 
ears.  My  imagination  carried  me  back  again  to  the 
night  when  Mary  and  I  stood  beside  Albert's  deathbed. 
I  seemed  to  see  her  in  her  grief,  as  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  heart,  and  dropped  upon  her  knees.  I  dropped 
upon  my  knees  also,  and  instantly  there  was,  as  it 
were,  unveiled  to  me  a  world  of  abomination,  sin, 
guilt,  and  shame.  I  saw  a  downtrodden  race ;  I  saw 
whips,  chains,  and  tears ;  I  heard  groans,  and  shrieks 
and  wails ;  I  saw  infants  torn  from  their  mother's 
arms  ;  I  saw  overseers  and  masters ;  I  saw  men, 
women  and  children,  covered  with  blood ;  I  saw  whole 
families  sunk  in  degradation  and  crime ;  I  saw  mothers 
applying  the  lash  to  the  back  of  the  slave,  and  daugh- 
ters following  in  the  footsteps  of  their  mothers  ;  I  saw 
fathers  brutalizing  themselves,  and  sons  following  in 
Ll* 


12G  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

their  train ;  I  heard  the  father  curse  the  wife,  and  the 
son  curse  the  father ;  I  saw  whole  families  fall  by  the 
hand  of  murder  and  suicide. 

"  I  was  about  to  cover  my  face,  in  order  to  shut  out 
this  horrid  spectacle,  when,  instantly,  my  vision  changed, 
and  I  beheld  in  shining  letters,  the  words :  '  Break  every 
yoke,  and  let  the  oppressed  go  free.'  I  looked  again :  I 
saw  a  shining  one  ;  he  was  pointing  at  me.  '  There  is 
no  blood  upon  me,'  thought  I,  when  instantly,  as  in  a 
mirror,  I  beheld  myself  covered  with  blood.  I  bowed 
my  head  as  I  saw  my  own  guilt.  I  too  was  guilty  of 
the  horrid  system  of  slavery.  I  was  a  slaveholder ;  my 
father  had  given  me  slaves  as  a  marriage  portion ;  my 
husband  was  the  owner  of  a  plantation  of  slaves.  It 
was  by  this  accursed  system  I  was  supported,  and  I  was 
awfully  guilty  and  covered  with  blood.  Then  came 
the  thought,  '  Where  now  is  thy  pride  ?  Where  is  the 
proud,  aristocratic  family  of  De  Wolfe  ? '  And  then 
came  the  answer :  '  Gone !  gone  to  judgment !  and  thou 
wilt  soon  follow;  and  there  will  be  none  left,  save  the 
downtrodden  daughter  of  thy  brother  Albert,  of  all  thy 
noble  house ;  and  she  even  may  yet  meet  the  fate  of 
Mary ;  she,  too,  is  in  the  fangs  of  the  same  monster.' 

"  So  vividly  was  all  this  portrayed  before  me,  that 
every  impression  was  as  clear  as  life,  and  is  to  this  day. 
Unconsciously,  I  uttered  a  shriek,  and  you,  Julia,  came 
to  my  room.  Hooked  upon  you,  and  oh!  what  a  sense 
I  had  of  your  wrongs !  I  felt  that  you  and  your  mother 
had  been  grievously  injured;  but,  up  to  the  present 
moment,  I  had  never  had  a  sense  of  the  sin  of  slavery, 
—  of  holding  men  like  brutes.  I  could  now  realize,  in 
full,  what  Albert  had  felt  when,  in  his  dying  moments, 
he  addressed  my  father.     T  spent  the   night   in   prayer  ; 


THE   DE  WOLFE    FAMILY.  127 

and  it  was  not  until  I  resolved  that,  so  far  as  in  me  lay, 
I  would  abolish  the  horrid  system,  that  I  found  peace. 

"  The  next  morning  I  sought  my  husband,  and  gave 
him  a  description  of  my  feelings.  1  told  him  of  the 
guilt,  the  sin  of  slavery ;  1  told  him  that  I  also  was 
guilty  —  that  I  had  but  just  become  convinced  of  the 
sin  of  holding  men  in  bondage ;  I  told  him  my  own 
hands  were  given  me  to  labor,  and  that  I  would  feel 
a  happiness  in  so  doing.  '  Let  us  take  our  slaves 
North,'  said  I,  '  and  place  them  in  circumstances  where 
they  can  become  men,  and  not  brutes.  Let  us  thus 
release  ourselves  from  this  great  and  heinous  sin.'  He 
heard  me  through  without  any  visible  emotion,  and 
made  no  remark. 

"  Had  he  complied  with  my  request,  I  could  have 
forgiven  him,  for  I  once  had  loved  him  ardently.  From 
that  hour  to  this,  I  have  only  looked  upon  him  with 
horror.  But  I  shall  soon  pass  away.  As  said  Albert, 
so  say  I  —  it  is  this  that  will  cause  my  death.  I  know 
that  my  sins  are  forgiven,  and  have  great  peace  in 
believing  so." 

u  From  that  time,  Julia,  I  have  spent  my  days  and 
nights  in  striving  '  to  do  justly,  love  mercy,  and  walk 
humbly  with  God' ;  and,  although  I  have  had  no  power, 
either  to  control  Mr.  Devony's  action  in  relation  to  his 
slaves,  or  release  them  myself  from  their  chains,  I  have 
been  enabled  at  times  to  help  them  bear  their  burdens. 

"  You  well  know,  Julia,  that,  during  my  long  sickness, 
Mr.  Devony  ever  appeared  morose  and  savage,  not  only 
to  me,  but  to  every  one  about  him.  Such  is  always  the 
legitimate  result  that  follows  wrong-doing :  one  becomes 
dissatisfied  with  himself  and  everybody  around  him. 


1U8  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"When  I  am  called  to  leave  you  in  his  hands,  alone  and 
unprotected,  I  cannot  but  have  dire  forebodings  as  to  the 
trials  and  sufferings  he  will  cause  you  to  endure.  Julia, 
I  charge  you  never  to  forget,  for  a  single  moment,  that, 
although  crushed  as  a  slave,  you  alone  represent  the  once 
noble  name  of  De  Wolfe.  Restore,  therefore,  if  you  live 
— by  a  holy  and  virtuous  life — the  fading  glory  to  the 
name  of  De  Wolfe.  But,  if  American  slavery  seeks  to 
crush  you  to  infamy,  think  of  the  ransomed  spirits  of 
your  friends,  and  die  a  virtuous,  heroic  woman! " 

"  When  Julia  had  finished  her  narrative,  Emily  asked 
her  if  she  would  lie  down.  Julia  replied  in  a  whisper. 
Emily  requested  her  father  to  recline  upon  the  sofa, 
as  he  seemed  feeble.  During  the  whole  of  Julia's  nar- 
rative, he  was  greatly  agitated,  but  expressed  no  wish 
to  retire.  Emily  then  motioned  to  me,  and  I  fol- 
lowed her  from  the  room,  and  afterwards  to  the  slave 
quarters.  We  entered  Julia's  cabin.  Stepping  upon 
the  straw,  upon  which  Julia  had  lain,  she  said, '  Frank, 
raise  this  board,  and  dig  here,'  and  she  placed  her  foot 
upon  the  spot.  With  a  hoe,  which  I  found  near,  I 
removed  the  earth  some  eight  inches,  and  came  upon  a 
box,  which  I  lifted  out.  Emily  wiped  the  dirt  from  it 
with  her  handkerchief.  It  was  a  small  mahogany  box 
of  beautiful  workmanship.  I  then  filled  in  the  earth, 
replaced  the  board,  and  we  returned  to  Emily's  room. 

"  Julia  opened  her  eyes,  as  we  entered,  and  asked 
Emily  to  open  the  box,  which  she  did.  Julia  reached 
out  her  hand  to  take  it ;  and,  when  Emily  handed  it  to 
her,  she  kissed  it  and  said,  '  It  was  my  mother's.'  She 
then  took  out  a  small  pocket  Bible,  bound  in  black, 


JULIA   DE  WOLFE  —  CORRESPONDENCE. 

which  she  also  pressed  to  her  lips,  and  said, '  This  was 
my  father's.'  A  picture  came  next.  She  kissed  it  like- 
wise and  said,  '  This  also  belonged  to  my  father.'  This 
she  desired  us  to  look  at,  and  it  was  passed  to  all  who 
were  in  the  room.  The  countenance  was  noble  and 
commanding,  and  there  was  a  strong ,  resemblance  be- 
tween father  an<2  daughter.  All  this  time,  Julia  was 
perfectly  calm.  When  Emily  returned  the  picture, 
Julia  said :  '  I  have  often  wept  over  this  picture ;  but  it 
is  passed  now.'  She  then  requested  Emily  to  read 
what  was  written  on  the  blank  leaf  of  the  Bible.  Em- 
ily opened  it,  and  read  as  follows : 

My  Dear  Julia,  —  I  am  about  to  leave  you.  Friendless 
you  will  be,  indeed,  in  this  world  of  sorrow  —  in  this  land  of 
oppression.  But  you  have  been  taught  to  pray,  and  you  must 
carry  your  sorrows  to  God.  Live  near  to  him  —  take  him  for 
your  Father,  and  he  will  never  forsake  you.  "  If  others  for- 
sake thee,  he  will  take  thee  up." 

Mr.  Devony  has  promised  that  you  shall  not  be  sold.  God 
grant  that  he  may  keep  that  promise.  He  knows  that  my 
father  has  willed  you  your  freedom  at  eighteen.  So,  remember, 
dear  Julia,  that,  at  that  age,  you  will  be  free,  and  entitled  to 
Albert's  share  of  the  property,  willed  you  by  my  father. 
When  you  arrive  at  that  age,  apply  to  II.  Durkee,  Esq.  He  is 
to  take  you  to  the  North,  where  you  will  be  free.  Farewell, 
Julia!  Thou  alone  remainest  on  earth  of  my  loved  ones. 
Julia,  I  have  an  idea  that  departed  spirits  are  permitted  to 
watch  over  and  guard  their  loved  ones  on  earth.  It  seems  to 
me,  if  such  be  the  case,  I  shall  attend  you.  Keep  me  always 
in  mind,  particularly  if  you  are  in  trouble ;  and,  if  God  permit, 
I  will  be  near  you.  Again  I  say  farewell !  I  trust  you  will 
meet  me  in  heaven. 

"  Underneath  was  written,  in  the  delicate  hand  of 
Julia: 


130  THE   CURSE    KNTAILED. 

Died,  September  12th,  18—, 
MRS.    EMMA    DEVOXY, 

Aged  86  years. 

"  Julia's  eyes,  which  were  fairly  irradiated,  were  bent 
upon  Emily,  while  she  was  reading.  As  Emily  handed 
her  the  Bible,  &c,  she  said:  'Will  you  keep  these 
things  for  my  sake,  dear  Miss  Emily  I '  Emily  bowed 
her  assent. 

"  As  my  uncle  arose  to  leave  the  room,  Julia  reached 
out  her  hand.  He  advanced  and  took  it.  She  looked 
him  steadily  in  the  face,  and  said :  '  You  are  the  father 
of  Miss  Emily ;  may  I  love  you,  for  her  sake  ? '  She 
then  shut  her  eyes,  and  observed  to  him,  '  You  must  not 
delay,  or  you  will  be  too  late.'  He  appeared  greatly 
agitated  by  her  remarks.  As  she  loosed  her  hand  from 
his,  I  gave  him  my  arm,  and  we  left  the  room. 

"  In  about  half  an  hour,  Emily  came  to  me,  and 
requested  that  I  would  bring  her  father  to  her  room,  as 
Julia  wished  to  see  him.  He  and  I  went  there.  Julia 
was  sitting  up  in  bed,  and,  as  we  entered,  Emily  with- 
drew. 

" '  There  is  something  more  for  me  to  do,'  said  Julia, 
'  to  perform  which  your  presence  is  required.'  She  then 
closed  her  eyes,  as  she  had  so  often  done  before.  In  a  few 
moments,  she  re-opened  them  and  said  to  my  uncle  : 

" '  My  mistress  left  no  heirs.  I  am  the  lawful  heir  to 
property  left  me  by  my  grandfather,  Mr.  L.  De  Wolfe. 
It  is  not  right  that  it  should  go  to  a  slaveholder,  and  I 
desire  it  to  go  to  Miss  Emily,  to  be  used  in  the  cause 
of  freedom.' 

"  My  uncle  informed  her  that  if  she  would  state  her 
wish  in  regard  to  the  property,  he  would  commit  it  to 
writing. 


JULIA   DE  WOLFE  —  COEEESPONDENCE.  131 

"  '  It  is  my  dying  will,  then,'  said  Julia,  '  that  Emily 
take  such  steps  as  will  secure  said  property  to  herself, 
and  that  she  dispose  of  it  as  she  may  think  best.' 

"  '  Your  father  returns  to  morrow,'  said  Emily,  as  I 
met  her  in  the  evening. 

" '  So  my  mother  informs  me,'  was  my  reply. 

'"  And  what  course  will  he  pursue  in  regard  to 
Julia?'  she  inquired. 

" '  I  am  determined,'  said  I,  '  to  incur  my  father's 
displeasure  —  if  it  be  necessary  —  and  object  to  her 
removal  from  your  room.  I  have  a  friend  at  the  North, 
and  I  will  myself  conduct  her  there ;  yes,  I  am  deter- 
mined to  defend  her,  at  the  peril  of  my  life !  I  have 
long  thought  of  leaving  this  place  of  crime ;  but  then, 
my  dear  cousin,  you  must  follow  me.' 

"  By  this  time,  we  had  returned  to  the  veranda. 

" '  Hark ! '  said  Emily  ;  '  there  are  loud  words  coming 
from  my  room.' 

"  She  flew  up  the  stairs,  and  I  was  not  much  behind 
her.  We  heard  Julia  call  Emily,  and  give  one  scream. 
The  door  was  locked,  but  we  could  hear  the  voice  of 
Dinah,  in  supplication,  and  could  also  distinguish  the 
voice  of  my  father,  but  nothing  more  from  Julia.  I 
hastened  to  my  room,  followed  by  Emily,  but  the  door 
between  the  chambers  was  also  locked  upon  the  inside. 
I  hurried  down  the  stairs  to  my  mother,  and  demanded 
the  keys  of  the  house. 

"  She  looked  at  me  in  astonishment,  but  handed 
them  to  me.  When  I  returned  to  the  chamber,  Emily 
was  upon  her  knees.  The  door  yielded  to  the  second 
key. 

"  My  father  stood  at  the  foot  and  the  overseer 
at  the  side  of  the  bed  —  his  hands  were  reached  for- 


132  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

ward  in  the  act  of  raising  Julia.  She  partially  raised 
herself  in  bed,  then  fell  back  and  closed  her  eyes. 

" '  O  law ! '  said  Dinah,  seeming  to  forget  the  presence 
of  my  father.  '  Did  n't  I  tell  ye  she 's  goin'  ?  Oh,  she 's 
gone  to  de  Lord,  and  she  's  left  poor  ole  Dinah.  O 
Lord!  O  Lord!  I  jest  wish  she  'd  took  me  wid  her. 
Can  you  see  de  good  angel,  Miss  Em'ly  ?  You  're  so 
good,  she  '11  hear  you.  Oh,  jest  ask  her,  Miss  Em'ly,  to 
take  me,  too ! ' 

"  My  father  looked  at  us,  apparently  not  heeding 
Dinah's  words.  I  thought,  however,  that  lie  seemed 
agitated,  as  I  fixed  my  gaze  upon  him. 

" '  Do  your  bidding,'  said  he  to  the  overseer.  '  I  am 
not  to  be  deterred  from  my  course  by  an  undutiful  son, 
who  has  become  a  fanatic,  nor  by  young  ladies  bred  in 
France,  who  put  on  airs.' 

"  As  he  was  speaking,  Emily  had  advanced,  and 
stood  beside  Julia ;  and,  as  the  overseer  attempted  to 
raise  her,  she  said :  l  Stand  back,  thou  unhallowed 
wretch !  Wilt  thou  dare  to  lay  thy  murderous  hands 
upon  the  corpse  of  her  who  was  so  pure,  and  whom 
thy  cruelty  has  served  to  hasten  from  thy  grasp  ? '  And 
she  fixed  her  eyes  full  upon  my  father. 

"  I  stepped  forward,  and  laid  my  hand  upon  the  fore- 
head of  Julia.     '  She  is  dead ! '  said  I,  to  my  father. 

"  All  this  time,  Dinah  was  weeping  aloud,  and  sup- 
plicating the  angel  to  take  her  too,  and  talking  of  her 
wrongs  and  miseries.  My  father  turned  and  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  her,  but  did  not  seem  to  have  power  to  move. 

"  The  overseer  had  stepped  back,  and  stood  with  his 
eyes  resting  upon  my  father.  'Leave  this  room!' 
said  Emily.  Receiving  no  orders  from  my  father  to 
remain,  the  overseer  walked  doggedly  from  the  room. 


JULIA   DE  WOLFE  —  CORRESPONDENCE.  133 

His  countenance  seemed  to  say,  '  You  have  robbed  me 
of  my  prey,  but  I  will  have  my  revenge ! ' 

"  Again  I  saw  that  holy  light  in  Emily's  eyes,  as  she 
fixed  them  upon  my  father.  His  eye  fell  as  she  said : 
'  Julia  is  dead !  Will  you  look  upon  her  placid  fea- 
tures ?  The  Lord  has  removed  her  from  this  world  of 
suffering.' 

" '  It  is  the  work  of  you  and  Frank,'  said  he, '  and  I 
am  one  thousand  dollars  poorer,  for  I  paid  that  for  her.' 

" l  If  it  is  my  work,'  said  Emily,  '  it  is  because  I  have 
access  at  the  throne  of  Him  who  decideth  justly,  and 
who  loveth  mercy;  and  if  he  will  hear  and  answer 
my  prayers,  I  will  look  up  to  Him  till  there  is  not  a 
slave  left  on  this  plantation !  Aye,'  continued  she,  \  I 
will  pray  till  the  land  is  shorn  of  victims,  upon  which 
overseers  can  wreak  their  cruelties.  I  will  pray  until 
slaveholders  are  led  to  tremble,  in  view  of  their  accursed 
acts  —  till  they  lay  low  in  the  dust,  and  cry  for  mercy 
from  the  God  of  the  oppressed,  against  whom  they 
have  sinned.  And  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  repent- 
ance for  those  who  deal  in  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men, 
then  will  I  pray  for  you,  uncle,  till  I  go  down  to  my 
grave,  that  you  may  repent  and  find  mercy.  For,  know, 
then,  that  thou  must  meet  God  face  to  face  with  this 
thy  victim ! '     And  she  pointed  to  the  corpse. 

"  My  father  trembled,  and  turned  pale  before  her. 

" '  O  law,  yes ! '  replied  Dinah,  '  de  Lord  '11  hear  you 
pray,  Miss  Em'ly  ;  and  won't  you  pray  for  ole  Dinah, 
and  for  my  chil'ren,  an'  den  we  go  up  puty  soon  ?  ' 

"  My  father  turned  and  descended  the  stairs.  And 
nowr,  dear  Edward,  with  the  death  of  Julia  I  must  close 
my  letter  to  you.     Write  me  soon.     Farewell, 

"  Frank  Le  Rux." 

12 


CHAPTER   XII. 

TRYING    SCENES    FOR    EMILY. 

a  Come  with  me,  cousin  Frank,"  said  Emily,  "  and 
look  once  more  upon  the  sister  we  loved." 

Frank  obeyed.  There,  upon  the  sofa,  lay  the  beau- 
tiful but  lifeless  form  of  Julia  De  Wolfe.  There  was  a 
smile  upon  her  countenance ;  her  slightly  waving  hair 
was  combed  back,  and  she  was  neatly  arrayed,  for  the 
burial,  in  a  plain  white  dress  of  Emily's. 

"  She  looks,"  said  Frank,  "  much  as  she  did  when  her 
eyes  were  closed,  while  she  was  communing  with  her 
guardian  spirit." 

They  bent  over  and  kissed  the  corpse.  As  they 
lifted  their  heads,  tears  trembled  in  their  eyes.  Yes, 
the  son  of  the  proud,  aristocratic  William  Le  Rux 
kissed  the  poor,  downtrodden  slave  corpse !  And,  as 
he  did  so,  a  living  holy  fire  seemed  to  descend  upon 
him,  and  he  said :  "  God's  spirit  hath  descended  into 
my  soul,  and  I  am  ready  to  be  offered  up.  Methinks," 
continued  he,  "  that  I  feel  as  Christ  felt,  when  he  said, 
4  If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass ;  nevertheless,  not 
my  will,  but  thine,  be  done.' " 

They  then  sang  the  beautiful  hymn,  "  Rise  my  soul 
and  stretch  thy  wings."  "  Glory  be  to  God ! "  said 
Frank,  "  my  Saviour  is'with  me.  Henceforth  and  for- 
ever J  am  the  Lord's." 

"Amen!  and  amen!"  responded  Emily.    "Her  mantle 

(134) 


TRYING   SCENES   FOR   EMILY.  135 

has  fallen  upon  us.  Rejoice,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that 
is  within  me." 

At  this  moment,  Dinah  entered  the  room,  to  say  that 
the  overseer  had  sent  Joe  and  Dick  to  take  Julia's 
corpse  to  the  burial,  and  to  know  if  they  could  come 
up  into  Miss  Emily's  room.  She  raised  both  hands,  as 
she  beheld  the  corpse,  and  said,  "  O  jes'  see,  Mas'r 
Frank,  how  beautiful  de  poor  slave  look,  w'en  dey 
gon  to  heben  —  w'en  good  Miss  Eml'y  fix  um  all  up. 
I  jest  b'lieve  dey  's  white  's  any  body,  when  dey  gits 
to  de  Lord's  home.  But  dey  's  cumin,  Mas'r  Frank, 
an'  dey  '11  tumble  her  right  in  a  hole  in  de  dirt,  jest  as 
dey  did  my  ole  man.  An'  I  tie  my  new  red  hank'ch'i 
roun'  his  head,  an  de  oberseer  trow  it  off,  and  tell  it,  '  Go 
to  de  debil.'"  Sure  enough,  Dinah  was  right,  for 
footsteps  were  upon  the  stairs,  and  immediately  two 
black  faces  were  peering  in  at  the  door. 

"  We  's  got  de  hole  all  dug,  Mas'r  Frank,"  said  Joe, 
"  and  we 's  afeard  de  hogs  will  root  de  dirt  back  'gin, 
if  we  's  gon  long." 

Frank  arose,  and,  as  the  negroes  caught  sight  of  the 
corpse,  they  started  back,  with  the  exclamation,  "  Oh, 
she  jest  look  like  de  dead  white  folks." 

"  I  t'inks  de  Lord  made  Julia,"  said  Joe,  in  a  half 
whisper,  to  Dick. 

But  it  was  heard  by  Frank,  and  he  said,  "  Yes,  Joe, 
the  Lord  made  you,  too,  and  you  will  go  to  live  with 
him,  when  you  die,  if  you  are  good." 

"  Law,  yes ! "  said  Joe,  "  De  min'st'r  say,  if  I  mind 
mas'r  and  oberseer,  I'd  go  to  heben,  but  if  I  don't  I'll 
go  to  hell — but  I  forgets  I's  stayin' ; "  and  he  advanced 
to  take  the  body  from  the  sofa. 

"  You  need  not  take  it  now,"  said  Frank. 


13U  Tin:  CUK9&  entailed. 

Joe  stopped  and  looked  at  him  a  minute,  and  then 
said,  "  But  de  oberseer,  he  drefful  mad  'bout  it,  an' 
whip  and  crack  de  slaves  like  ebery  ting.  I  b'l'eve  he  '11 
kill  us,  if  we  don't  bring  July." 

"  I  hearn  'im  say,"  said  Dick,  "  dat  he  'd  put  'er  in  de 
ground  widout  nothin'  on  'er,  an'  kick  an'  break  'er 
bones,  and  pull  and  burn  'er  tongue,  'kase  she  hollered 
de  oder  night." 

Emily  started  to  her  feet,  and  cast  her  eyes  implor- 
ingly upon  Frank ;  and  he  saw  that  she  was  trembling. 

Frank  said,  "  I  will  stand  between  you  and  the  over- 
seer, Joe  —  you  may  follow  me ; "  and  they  left  the 
room. 

Emily  was  alone  with  the  corpse.  She  arose  and 
walked  the  room  for  a  minute.  She  was  irresolute ; 
this  was  new  to  her ;  she  had  not  learned  all  of  slavery. 
She  looked  at  the  body  of  Julia,  and  said,  "  Her  re- 
quest shall  be  granted —  his  vile  hands  shall  never  more 
touch  her." 

Suddenly  the  shadow  of  doubt  passed  from  her  face ; 
and,  entering  a  closet,  she  tied  on  her  bonnet,  locked 
the  doors,  put  the  keys  in  her  pocket,  and  entered  the 
street  unperceived,  and,  with  a  quick  step,  walked  in 
the  direction  of  the  city. 

She  had  travelled  some  distance,  when  she  entered  a 
shop,  where  she  received  a  bow  of  recognition  from  the 
man  in  attendance.  They  were  in  close  conversation 
for  some  five  minutes,  during  which  time  the  man  fre- 
quently bowed,  as  if  in  the  affirmative.  He  then 
brought  writing  materials ;  and  Emily  seated  herself, 
and  wrote  a  few  lines.  The  man  folded  the  paper,  and, 
drawing  from  his  pocket  a  small  pocket-book,  placed 
it  within  it. 


TBYING   SCENES   FOR   EMILY.  137 

Emily  then  returned  to  the  house,  and  to  her  own 
room.     She  had  not  even  been  missed. 

When  Frank  descended  the  stairs,  he  ordered  Joe  and 
Dick  to  wait  in  the  back  yard  until  he  came  to  them. 

He  then  sought  his  mother,  and  found  her  in  her 
room.  He  inquired  for  his  father,  and  found  that  he 
had  rode  over  to  another  plantation — the  overseer  hav- 
ing sent  him  word  that  the  cholera  had  broken  out 
among  his  slaves. 

As  Frank  returned  to  the  yard,  he  saw  the  overseer 
approaching,  whip  in  hand,  through  a  lane  leading  to 
the  house.  Stepping  within  the  door,  he  stood  until 
the  overseer  entered  the  yard,  who  with  a  horrid  oath 
demanded  why  they  had  not  "brought  down  the  d — d 
corpse,"  at  the  same  time  laying  the  whip  heavily  upon 
the  shoulders  of  Joe. 

Joe  writhed ;  and,  retreating  a  few  paces  backwards, 
said, ."  Young  Mas'r  Frank ." 

Frank,  who  had  not  expected,  the  overseer  to  strike, 
came  forward ;  but,  before  he  could  speak,  down  came 
the  lash  again  upon  poor  Joe. 

"  Stop !  "  said  Frank,  as  he  saw  the  brutal  overseer 
about  to  strike  another  blow,  at  the  same  time  springing 
forward  and  seizing  the  whip.  He  then  ordered  the 
overseer  to  desist,  and  he  would  explain  why  the  boys 
had  not  brought  the  body.  It  was  as  Joe  had  said  — 
the  overseer  was  angry  about  something.  He  heeded 
not  Frank,  but  bounded  forward  at  Joe,  leaving  the 
whip  in  Frank's  hand. 

But  this  time,  Joe,  taking  courage  by  the  presence  of 
Mas'r  Frank,  and  conscious  that  he  had  done  no  wrong, 
stood  on  the  defensive. 

"  Stan'  'way,  Mas'r  Oberseer,"  said  Joe;  but,  as  he 
12*  • 


138  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

did  not  heed  the  warning,  and  was  about  to  deal  a 
blow  with  his  fist,  Joe  stepped  aside,  tripped  his  heels, 
and  the  overseer  fell  forward  to  the  ground,  uttering  a 
horrid  oath.  His  ardor  seemed  somewhat  abated  as  he 
arose  to  his  feet,  with  the  blood  streaming  from  his 
nose ;  but  there  was  no  less  profanity,  for  oath  followed 
oath  in  quick  succession. 

Frank  bade  him  cease,  and  ordered  Dick  to  bring 
some  water  from  the  pump.  The  overseer  took  the 
water  —  not  with  a  very  good  grace,  however  —  and 
proceeded  to  clean  his  face  from  blood  and  dirt,  still 
casting  malicious  glances  at  Joe. 

After  he  had  finished,  Frank  said,  "  I  do  not  think 
God  has  anything  to  do  with  your  malicious  feelings 
towards  Joe,  and  I  therefore  desire  you  not  to  take  his 
name  in  vain." 

The  overseer  was  doggedly  silent,  and  Frank  con- 
tinued :  "  You  have  been  foiled  in  your  wickedness, 
and  are  desirous  of  wreaking  your  vengeance  upon 
some  one,  which  alone  proves  you  base  enough.  But 
you  have  evidently  other  schemes  in  your  guilty  heart, 
in  which  also  you  will  be  foiled.  Now  go  to  the  quar- 
ters, and  do  not  strike  another  blow  until  my  father 
returns.  I  will  answer  to  him  for  the  conduct  of  the 
slaves  in  his  absence." 

Then,  turning  to  Joe,  Frank  said ;  "  Come  to-night 
at  eight  o'clock,  and  inform  me  how  things  are  at  the 
quarters." 

So  saying,  he  went  to  Emily's  room.  Leaving 
Frank  with  the  body,  Emily  descended  the  stairs,  and 
sought  her  aunt. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  looked  very  sober,  and  remarked  that 
such  was  the  common  way  of  burying  the  slaves,  and 


TRYING    SCENES    FOR    EMILY.  139 

she  knew  Mr.  Le  Rux  would  be  displeased  to  have 
any  extra  pains  taken. 

"  But  will  you  not  come,  aunt,  and  look  at  the 
corpse  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  Oh !  I  never  trouble  myself  to  do  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Le  Rux. 

"  But  this  time,  dear  aunt,  do,  for  my  sake." 

At  length  Mrs.  Le  Rux  yielded.  Emily  gave  her 
her  arm,  and  they  ascended  the  stairs,  entered  the  cham- 
ber, and  stood  looking  at  the  corpse. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  beautiful  corpse  ?  "  asked  Emily.  "  And 
then,  to  think  that  her  spirit  is  in  heaven,  at  rest.  Oh ! " 
continued  she,  "how  thankful  I  am  that  she  has 
escaped  from  all  the  miseries  which  surrounded  her 
here." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  could  not  appreciate  Emily's  feelings. 
She  was  sure  Emily  would  miss  her  dress.  It  was 
just  as  well  to  bury  her  in  her  old  clothes.  She  had 
never  heard  of  any  fuss  of  this  kind  upon  any  of  the 
plantations,  except  now  and  then  about  a  house-servant, 
and  they  could  not  afford  it.  Julia  had  cost  them  a 
thousand  dollars,  and  now  sickness  had  broken  out  on 
the  other  plantation  —  perhaps  it  was  the  cholera,  and 
half  the  slaves  might  die.  She  believed  they  were  a 
curse,  any  how. 

Emily  fairly  groaned  at  her  aunt's  obduracy. 

"  Who  gives  you  your  blessings,  mother  ?  "  inquired 
Frank. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that  ?  "  said  his  mother  in  return. 
"  Have  you  not  always  been  taught  that  the  Lord 
gives  us  all  our  blessings  ? " 

"  You  talk,"  said  Frank,  "  as  if  slavery  were  a  curse  : 
who  gave  you  that  ?  " 


140  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  You  talk  strangely,  Frank,"  said  his  mother,  "  Why 
do  you  ask  such  questions  ?  " 

"  I  am  sincere,  mother,"  said  Frank.  "  I  am  well 
persuaded  that  slavery  is  a  curse ;  but  I  want  to  know 
who  gave  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh! "  replied  his  mother, "  our  ancestors  bequeathed 
it  to  us,  and  we  cannot  get  rid  of  it,  if  we  would." 

"  Suppose  my  ancestors  were  to  bequeathe  me  a 
piratical  vessel,"  said  Frank,  "  would  that  oblige  me  to 
become  a  pirate  ?  Or,  had  they  bequeathed  me  some 
disease,  would  I  be  justified  in  keeping  it?  If  I  should 
do  so,  would  I  not  only  be  wronging  myself,  but  my 
children?  —  yes,  and  my  children's  children,  from  gener- 
ation to  generation  ?  " 

"  I  really  believe  you  are  becoming  an  abolitionist, 
Frank,"  said  his  mother ;  "  but  I  hope  you  won't  talk 
such  nonsense  before  the  slaves  —  it  will  make  them 
act  worse  than  they  do  now." 

"  Who  bequeathed  you  Julia  ?  "  said  Frank.  "  You 
cannot  lay  that  to  your  ancestors :  if  you  do,  they  will 
rise  up  in  judgment  against  you,  for  they  can  only 
answer  for  their  own  sins." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  silent,  and  Frank  continued :  "  I 
am  an  abolitionist,  mother,  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
I  detest  slavery  from  my  inmost  soul,  and  millions  of 
dollars  would  not  tempt  me  to  buy  and  sell  a  man, 
woman,  or  child,  for  it  would  ruin  my  soul.  I  am  wil- 
ling to  be  beggared ;  I  am  willing  to  go  out  from  my 
paternal  home,  and  be  houseless  and  homeless,  a  wan- 
derer upon  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  and  when  these  hands 
fail  to  yield  me  support,  I  am  prepared  to  beg,  or  be- 
come the  inmate  of  an  alms-house.  Yes,  I  am  ready  to 
die,  rather  than  to  become  a  slaveholder,  or  answer  for 


TRYING   SCENES   fOB   EMILY.  141 

* 

one  such  sin  as  that," — and  he  pointed  to  the  corpse 
of  Julia, — "for  it  would  damn  me;  and  I  tell  you,  here, 
mother,  in  the  presence  of  that  God  whom  I  have 
sought  and  found,  and  who  will  protect  me  in  so  say- 
ing, that  her  blood  is  on  your  head.  I  am  recovering 
my  health,  and  I  am  determined  not  to  eat  the  bread 
earned  by  slaves.  If  God  wills,  in  his  own  time,  I 
shall  leave  you,  and  come  no  more  to  participate  in 
your  guilt,  or  partake  of  your  bread.  Your  eyes  are 
shut  against  light,  and  you  will  not  see ;  your  ears  are 
deaf,  and  you  will  not  hear.  You  never  shall  entail  the 
curse  of  slavery  upon  me.  You  have  rightly  pro- 
nounced it  '  a  curse.'  God  did  not  send  it  upon  you ; 
you  have  taken  it  to  your  bosom ;  and,  in  your  covet- 
ousness,  you  are  pressing  it  closer  to  your  heart.  It 
is  a  vampyre  eating  away  your  life,  and  you  will  not 
perceive  it.  It  is  biting  you  like  a  serpent ;  it  will  yet 
sting  you  like  an  adder.  I  shall  go  from  you,  poor, 
indeed,  for  I  must  go  without  your  blessing,  which 
perhaps,  is  of  all  things  the  most  to  be  prized  by  a  son 
— the  blessing  of  a  mother.  But  you  cannot  bless  ;  it 
would  be  mockery  for  you  to  offer  it,  or  for  me  to  re- 
ceive it ;  for  she  who  witholdeth  mercy,  cannot  receive 
or  bestow  a  blessing.  Your  prayers  I  cannot  have,  for 
you  have  no  access  at  the  throne  of  grace.  And  yet 
I  shall  not  be  poor,  for  I  shall  have  an  approving  con- 
science, and  the  smiles  and  protecting  care  of  my  Father 
in  heaven." 

"  Oh !  would  that  you  had  never  gone  North,  and 
heard  such  doctrines,  Frank,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux. 

"  And  I  bless  God,  mother,"  said  Frank,  "  that  I 
went  North,  and  that  I  there  found  a  true  man,  who 


142  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

taught  me,  not  only  my  own  sin,  but  my  duty  to  man 
and  God." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  evidently  distressed ;  and,  as  she 
arose  to  leave,  she  remarked  that  she  "  thought  the 
corpse  ought  to  be  removed  to  another  room,  during 
the  night,  as  Emily  would  need  sleep.  And  then," 
continued  she,  "  Julia  may  have  died  of  some  con- 
tagious disease.  I  wonder  that  I  had  not  thought  of 
it  before ;  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  had  not  heard  that 
disease  had  broken  out  on  the  other  plantation." 

"  I  trust,  aunt,"  said  Emily,  "  that  you  will  let  the 
body  remain  where  it  is,  during  the  night.  I  may  per- 
haps need  sleep,  but  I  am  in  no  mood  to  seek  it.  As 
for  the  disease,  it  may  be  contagious,  so  far  as  a  broken 
heart  is  contagious,  for  often,  when  I  looked  at  Julia,  I 
felt  as  if  my  own  heart  was  about  to  break.  As  for 
the  cruelty  inflicted  upon  Julia,  I  can  only  say,  that  the 
blood  of  the  Le  Ruxes  is  no  more  noble  than  that  which 
ran  in  the  veins  of  Julia  De  Wolfe,  who  now  lies  before 
you.  But,  if  my  fate  be  such  as  hers,  and  God  will 
send  his  angel  to  support  me,  and  at  last  take  me  to 
himself,  then  shall  I  be  enabled  to  pass  the  unholy 
ordeal  as  she  has  done." 

Emily  had  not  perceived  that  her  father  had  entered 
the  room,  and  had  been  a  listener  to  her  remarks ;  but, 
as  she  turned  her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  she 
met  his  eyes  riveted  upon  her.  Again  Frank  beheld  a 
holy  light  flash  in  her  eye. 

Her  father  bowed  his  head  in  silence,  folded  his  arms, 
and  sat  .motionless.  Emily  gazed  upon  him  for  a  few 
moments,  then  approached,  and,  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  said,  "  Father,  see  —  is  she  not  beautiful 
in  death  ?  " 


TRYING    SCENES   FOR   EMILY.  143 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  remained  where  she  was  when  she  last 
addressed  Emily.  There  was  a  kind  of  wonder  and 
distress  depicted  upon  her  countenance.  Frank  offered 
her  his  arm,  and,  as  they  descended  the  stairs,  inquired 
of  her  when  his  father  would  return. 

"  In  the  morning,"  was  her  reply. 

"  I  shall  await  his  orders  in  regard  to  the  burial  of 
Julia,"  said  Frank. 

His  mother  did  not  reply ;  and,  after  taking  a  few 
turns  in  the  garden,  he  went  again  to  Emily's  room. 

His  uncle  was  by  the  corpse,  leaning  upon  Emily's 
arm,  and  he  had  evidently  been  weeping,  but  Emily  was 
calm.  Emily's  father  left  the  room,  with  his  head  bowed 
low ;  and,  at  eight  o'clock,  Frank  went  below  and  into 
the  yard. 

Joe  soon  made  his  appearance. 

"  How  are  you  getting  along  at  the  quarters  ? " 
inquired  Frank. 

"O,  young  Mas'r  Frank,"  replied  Joe,  "de  oberseer's 
dumb,  'kase  he  sit  down  an'  say  nothin',  but  talk  to  his- 
self,  an'  look  so  mad  at  de  niggers ;  an'  I  hearn  'im 
swar  he  'd  tell  ole  mas'r  to  let  'im  whip  Joe ;  an'  he 
say  suthin'  'bout  July,  for  I  hearn  dat  rite  out;  an' 
den  'im  stamp  his  foot,  jes'  so  "  (and  Joe  imitated  the 
overseer),  "  an'  den  'im  start  up  big,  an'  say  him  jest 
as  good  as  anybody,  an'  July  dam'd,  an'  all  dat.  An' 
I  spects  'im  tell  ole  mas'r  dat  Joe  is  bad  nigger,  an'  let 
'im  whip  um ;  but  I  never  was  bad  nigger,  an'  ole  mas'r 
knows  dat  well  'nufF;  an'  I  neber  was  whip,  till  dis 
oberseer  strike  me,  an'  I  not  to  blame,  neder ;  an'  if 
ole  mas'r  whip  Joe  'kase  I  mind  young  mas'r,  den 
I'll » 

"  I  '11  what  ?  "  inquired  Frank,  as  Joe  stopped  short  in 


144  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

the  sentence.  But  Joe  had  become  less  communica- 
tive, although  he  looked  knowing. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Frank,  "  you  may  go  back  to  the 
quarters.  My  father  will  not  be  back  until  morning, 
and  then  I  will  speak  to  him." 

Frank  did  not  perceive  that  there  was  a  third  person 
interested  in  the  conversation ;  but  such  was  the  case, 
for,  hid  behind  the  paling,  was  the  overseer,  and,  before 
Joe  reached  the  quarters,  he  confronted  the  poor  fellow 
with  a  malicious  grin,  and  many  dark  threats. 

"  You  will  retire  and  seek  rest,  cousin,"  said  Emily, 
as  Frank  returned  to  her  room.  "  Dinah  has  been  sent 
to  spend  the  night  with  me,  with  strict  orders  from 
your  mother  that  you  retire." 

"  Is  it  your  wish  that  I  do  so?  "  said  Frank. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Emily,  "  I  shall  probably  sleep 
myself  before  morning  "We  must  gather  strength  of 
mind  and  body  to  meet  your  father  in  the  morning." 

"And  we  shall  need  strength  from  the  Lord,"  replied 
Frank :  "  let  us  kneel  in  this  room,  and  ask  it  of  him." 

They  arose  from  their  knees,  strengthened.  Emily 
felt  that  they  had  talked  with  God,  and  that  his  presence 
was  round  about  them. 

"  I  shall  arise  early,  in  hopes  to  meet  my  father," 
said  Frank,  as  he  retired. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

EMILY'S    TRIALS    CONCERNING    THE    BURIAL    OF   JULIA. 


<-'l 


Mrs.  Le  Rux's  thoughts  were  anything  but  pleasant, 
as  she  sat  alone  in  her  own  room ;  she  thought  over  the 
occurrences  of  the  day,  and  wondered  how  the  thing 
would  end.  She  thought  of  Julia,  and  the  loss  of  the 
one  thousand  dollars  paid  for  her  was  distressing;  but 
what  perplexed  her  most  was  what  Frank  had  said.  He 
had  talked  as  if  he  thought  her  very  wicked,  and  he  had 
told  her  he  was  going  away.  He  was  their  only  child, 
and  what  could  they  do  without  him  ?  She  was  sure  she 
had  always  been  kind  to  him ;  and  now  he  talked  of  not 
coming  back.  Who  then  would  inherit  their  property  ? 
He  had  said  he  would  not  inherit  it,  and  that  he  was 
an  abolitionist ;  that  was  the  great  difficulty.  But  she 
thought  he  might  perhaps  be  turned  from  that  purpose. 
He  must  not  be  indulged  in  these  things.  And  then, 
though  Emily  was  such  a  singular  girl,  and  had  such 
strange  ideas,  yet  she  could  not  help  loving  her.  At 
length,  her  thoughts  rested  upon  Mr.  Le  Rux,  and 
what  had  called  him  away.  Would  he  not  be  in 
danger  of  taking  the  cholera  ?  She  listened.  "  Is  he 
not  coming  to-night  ? "  thought  she,  as  she  went  to  the 
sitting-room  window.  She  had  hardly  reached  it,  how- 
ever, before  Mr.  Le  Rux  opened  the  door.  All  was 
soon  explained  to  her. 

"  The  cholera  is  among  the  niggers,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
18  (146) 


m 


146  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

did  not  choose  to  stay.  I  have  provided  them  with  a 
doctor,  and,  if  they  die,  I  can't  help  it." 

"  I  am  glad  you  did  not  expose  yourself,  husband," 
said  Mrs.  Le  Rux. 

But  Mr.  Le  Rux  had  been  to  the  quarters,  and  seen 
some  of  the  sick.  He  had  used  preventives,  and  he 
thought  there  was  no  danger  —  "  at  least,"  said  he,  "  I 
cannot  help  it  now,  and  I  will  continue  my  preventives." 

"  Has  there  been  any  fuss  about  putting  that  girl  into 
the  ground  ? "  asked  he.  "  I  thought  Joe  wanted  to 
say  something  to  me,  as  he  took  my  horse." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  informed  him  of  the  circumstances, 
and  of  what  Frank  had  said  to  her. 

"  It 's  a  pretty  piece  of  business,"  said  he  ;  "I  guess 
they'll  get '  broke  in?  after  a  while.  I  suppose  the  girl 
is  not  in  the  ground  yet." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux.  "  She  's  in  Emily's  room, 
and  she  has  her  all  laid  out,  in  one  of  her  white  dresses, 
and  is  making  just  as  much  fuss  over  her  as  if  she  were 
her  own  sister." 

"  A  pretty  business !  "  repeated  he.  "  This  comes  of 
rearing  girls  in  France.  I  wonder  if  she  won't  want  a 
mahogany  coffin  for  Julia.  I  think  I  will  attend  to  the 
business  in  the  morning.  They  will  hardly  drive  the 
niggers  away,  when  I  am  there.  But  I  am  dreadful 
tired  to-night.  Come,  let  us  go  to  bed.  I  expect  to 
hear  that  half  the  niggers  on  the  other  plantation  are 
dead  before  to-morrow  night."  Mr.  Le  Rux  was  indeed 
wearied;  and  hi*  preventive  had  began  to  act  as  an 
opiate  to  both  body  and  mind,  for  Mrs.  Le  Rux  soon 
found  that  he  was  fast  asleep.  She  could  no  longer 
talk,  and,  as  she  had  become  quite  tired  of  thinking  for 


EMILY    BURIES   JULIA.  147 

that  night,  she  soon  fell  into  a  slumber,  from  which  she 
did  not  awake  until  morning. 

Emily  was  in  the  chamber  of  death,  with  no  com- 
panion, except  Dinah,  who  had  for  a  long  time  been  ex- 
tended upon  the  carpet  with  one  of  the  pillows  from 
the  bed  under  her  head,  and  her  breathing  now  gave 
evidence  that  she  was  sound  asleep. 

Emily  took  from  a  small  drawer  Julia's  Bible,  and 
re-read  what  had  been  written  by  her  mistress,  on  the 
blank  leaf.  She  then  closed  it,  and  drew  forth  the  pic- 
ture, looked  at  it,  and  replaced  them  in  the  box  from 
which  they  had  been  taken  before  Julia's  death.  She 
also  took  from  the  drawer  a  necklace  of  beautiful 
workmanship,  which,  in  one  of  her  private  interviews 
with  Julia,  the  latter  had  taken  from  the  folds  of  her 
dress,  where  it  had  been  carefully  stitched  in,  and 
which  Julia  had  also  requested  her  to  keep.  There  was 
a  small  locket  attached  to  it ;  and,  as  she  was  examin- 
ing it,  she  touched  a  spring  on  the  back.  It  opened, 
and  she  saw  in  minute  letters,  engraved  on  the  inside, 
the  following :  «  Julia  De  Wolfe,  born  Sept.  2nd,  1833." 
Taking  pen  and  paper,  she  wrote :  "  Died,  Oct.  18th, 
1850."  She  then  attached  the  paper  to  the  necklace, 
wrapped  them  carefully  in  another  paper,  and  placed 
them  in  the  drawer, — saying,  as  she  did  so,  "No!  it 
shall  not  be  put  to  that  use  ;  this  will  do  as  well,"  and 
she  began  to  examine  a  bracelet  upon  her  wrist.  She 
then  arose  and  noiselessly  walked  the  room,  while  her 
eyes  were  cast  down,  as  if  in  deep  thought. 

Emily  stopped,  stooped  down,  and  placed  her  face 
near  Dinah's,  to  ascertain  whether  she  was  in  a  sound 
sleep.  "  She  is  too  wearied  to  awake,"  thought  she. 
Emily  then  took  up  her  light,  opened  her  door  noise- 


148  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

lessly,  and  looked  into  Frank's  room.  He  also  was 
asleep.  Just  then  the  clock  tolled  the  hour  of  one.  She 
listened.     All  below  was  quiet. 

Then,  lifting  the  curtain,  she  stood,  for  a  minute, 
with  the  candle  in  her  hand,  full  before  the  window. 
She  then  turned,  and,  dropping  upon  her  knees,  lifted 
her  eyes  to  heaven.  For  some  minutes  she  remained 
in  this  position.  Then,  rising,  she  said,  "  God  will  be 
my  helper."  She  approached  the  window  again,  and 
listened.  There  was  a  sound  of  wheels  approaching. 
It  came  nearer  the  house.  Noiselessly  she  descended 
the  stairs,  and  opened  the  front  door. 

Mr.  Revey,  the  man  whom  Emily  had  visited  in  the 
morning,  entered,  bearing  a  plain  mahogany  coffin. 
She  ascended  the  stairs,  followed  by  Mr.  Revey.  They 
entered  the  chamber,  and  he  placed  the  coffin  beside 
the  corpse.  Mr.  Revey  took  hold  of  the  head,  and 
Emily  of  the  feet,  and  they  placed  the  corpse  in  the 
coffin.  Emily  then  took  from  the  drawer  the  paper 
containing  the  gold  necklace  and  locket,  and  placed  it 
also  in  the  coffin,  after  which  the  lid  was  screwed 
down. 

"  Can  I  trust  the  Jew  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  If  he  receives  the  bracelet,"  was  the  reply. 

Emily  listened  again ;  all  was  still.  Again  she  de- 
scended the  stairs,  and  a  second  man  entered  the  outer 
door,  and  was  conducted  by  her  to  her  room.  They 
stood  beside  the  coffin.  Emily  took  from  her  wrist  a 
valuable  gold  bracelet  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
Jew.  He  examined  it  closely ;  his  countenance  ex- 
pressed satisfaction ;  he  placed  it  in  his  pocket,  and 
handed  Emily  a  folded  paper. 

The  two  men  took  up  the  coffin,  and,  descending  the 


EMILY   BURIES   JULIA.  149 

stairs,  passed  out  at  the  door  as  noiselessly  as  they  had 
entered.  Emily  stood  until  she  saw  the  coffin  placed 
in  the  carriage,  which  drove  rapidly  from  the  house. 
She  closed  and  locked  the  door,  and  returned  to  her 
room.  There  she  seated  herself,  and  drew  from  her 
pocket  the  paper  given  her  by  the  Jew.  It  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  In  the  family  vault  of  the  De  Wolfes,  in  the  old 

cemetery.     I  can  be  found  in  the  city,  No.  — , street. 

If  you  redeem  the  bracelet  within  one  year,  three  hun- 
dred dollars.  "  Jew  David." 

Did  Emily  shed  a  tear  as  she  thought  of  the  brace- 
let ?  Perhaps  so,  for  it  ehad  been  given  her  by  her 
father,  as  having  belonged  to  her  mother.  But  she  felt 
no  sorrow  for  the  act  she  had  done.  She  knelt  and 
returned  thanks  to  God ;  then  quietly  retired  to  rest. 

She  was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  Dinah,  who 
arose  early,  and,  missing  the  corpse  from  the  sofa,  was 
standing  with  her  arms  lifted  above  her  head,  exclaim- 
ing, in  great  astonishment,  "  O  Miss  Em'ly !  de  ober- 
seer  got  July  while  we  fast  'sleep  after  all  de  trouble  we 
hab." 

Emily  had  not  time  to  reply  to  Dinah,  before  she 
heard  Frank  descending  the  stairs.  She  arose,  and, 
without  waiting  to  dress,  dropped  the  blind. 

Frank  was  standing  in  the  yard.  His  father  was 
approaching  from  the  quarters,  in  company  with  the 
overseer,  followed  by  Joe  and  Dick.  As  they  entered 
the  gate,  Frank  stepped  up  to  his  father,  and  said,  in  a 
most  respectful  manner,  "  Will  you  hear  me  speak  a 
few  words  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  time  to  talk  with  men  who  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  converted  into  children,"  was  the  reply. 
18* 


150  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  I  think  that  corpse  has  lain  above  ground  long  enough 
to  please  the  fancy  of  your  French  cousin.  She  seems 
to  have  taken  a  great  fancy  to  dead  niggers.  1  under- 
stand she  is  claiming  her  for  a  sister.  She  's  out  there, 
I  think,  though  perhaps  there  may  be  a  more  distant 
relationship." 

The  last  remark  was  made  in  a  very  sarcastic  tone 
of  voice,  and  Frank  was  horrified.  He  saw  the  over- 
seer cast  at  him  a  malicious  look  of  exultation ;  but, 
before  he  had  time  to  speak  more,  his  father  bade  the 
overseer,  with  Joe  and  Dick,  go  to  Emily's  room,  and 
bring  down  the  corpse. 

Emily  was  still  at  the  window,  where  she  had  heard 
all  that  her  uncle  had  said.  She  hastened  to  dress,  but 
had  scarcely  time  to  divest  herself  of  her  night  dress, 
before  they  were  at  the  door,  and  it  was  forcibly  pushed 
open  by  the  overseer.  Throwing  on  a  cloak,  she 
advanced  to  the  door,  and  said,  "  Stand  back,  thou 
miserable  wretch ! "  As  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  his 
malicious  face,  he  cowered  and  halted. 

"  Stand  back ! "  said  Frank,  as  he  stepped  between 
the  overseer  and  Emily.  "  My  father  will  not  repeat 
his  command,  that  you  enter  my  cousin's  room,  at  this 
early  hour,  without  her  permission."  He  closed  the 
door,  and  Emily  turned  the  key,  telling  Frank  to  remain 
outside. 

The  overseer  fairly  foamed  with  rage,  as  he  descended 
the  stairs,  while  Joe  and  Dick  remained  in  the  hall. 

In  less  than  five  minutes,  Emily  opened  the  door. 
"  Tell  your  master,"  said  she,  addressing  Joe,  "  that  I 
await  him  in  my  room." 

Joe  did  not  move,  but  said,  "  Mas'r  Le  Rux  tell  me 
not  com'  down  dar "  but  he  was  interrupted,  for  the 


EMILY   BURIES   JULIA.  151 

overseer  was  ascending  the  stairs,  and  behind  him  Mr. 
Le  Rux. 

Emily  stood  in  the  entrance  to  the  room.  The 
overseer  advanced.  "  You  will  not  enter,"  said  Emily. 
Then,  turning  to  her  uncle,  whose  countenance  betrayed 
his  anger,  she  said,  "  My  room  is  always  open  to  Mr. 
Le  Rux,  when  I  am  in  a  proper  situation  to  receive 
him.  I  should  have  met  you  as  you  came  from  the 
quarters,  and  thereby  saved  you  much  trouble;  but, 
unhappily,  I  was  not  dressed." 

"  Do  your  bidding,  Joe,  and  obey  the  overseer,"  said 
Mr.  Le  Rux. 

Joe  and  the  overseer  advanced  to  the  door,  but  Emily 
stood  her  ground,  and,  still  addressing  her  uncle,  she 
said :  "  You  will  pardon  me,  sir,  but  the  feet  of  that 
unhallowed  being  cannot  enter  the  room  where  so 
lately  lay  the  victim  of  his  cruelty.  The  room  is  yet 
hallowed  to  me,  for  here,  but  a  few  hours  ago,  angels 
came  and  ministered  unto  her  I  loved.  Here  her 
soul  was  raised  above  earth  to  Him  who  has  taken  her 
to  His  mansions  in  the  heavens.  Could  you  have 
witnessed  the  scene,  uncle,  it  might  perhaps  have  led 
you  to  pause  and  consider.  It  might  have  pointed  you 
to  immortality  and  eternal  life." 

Emily's  whole  soul,  mind,  and  spirit  seemed  raised 
above  earth  as  she  spoke,  and  her  countenance  fairly 
shone.  Her  eye  had  that  holy  light  which  Frank  had 
so  often  noticed.  She  ceased  speaking ;  her  eye  rested 
on  her  uncle.  Slowly  she  raised  her  right  arm  above  her 
head,  and,  with  her  finger  pointing  above,  she  said : 
"Julia  De  Wolfe  is  there — she  is  in  heaven  —  and 
her  mortal  remains  are  not  here,  but  placed  beyond  the 
reach  of  her  murderers." 


152  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  he  did  not 
speak. 

"  I  invite  you  to  enter,  uncle,"  said  Emily ;  "  but,  if 

you  have  brought  that  miserable  being  here,  to  deliver 

up  to  him  the  body  of  Julia  De  Wolfe,  let  me  tell  you 

jilainly,  that  it  is  not  here.      Come,"  she  continued, 

"  and  look  for  yourself." 

"  She  is  crazy"  thought  Mr.  Le  Rux,  as  he  entered 
the  room,  followed  by  Frank,  who,  on  glancing  at  the 
sofa  upon  which  had  lain  the  body  of  Julia,  could 
hardly  believe  that  he  was  not  deceived.  He  looked 
inquiringly  at  Emily,  and  then  turned  his  eye  in  the 
direction  of  the  closet. 

"  My  cousin  does  not  yet  understand  me,"  said 
Emily ;  and  she  instantly  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
spacious  closet,  and  bade  them  enter.  "  I  will  put  a 
stop  to  your  suspicions  at  once,"  said  she.  "  The 
remains  of  Julia  De  "Wolfe  are  not  in  this  room,  neither 
are  they  in  this  house,  or  on  this  plantation ;  but,  as  I 
before  said,  they  are  beyond  the  reach  of  her  murderers. 
They  are  enclosed  in  a  plain  mahogany  coffin,  and  rest 
in  a  place  befitting  the  last  member  of  the  noble  house 
of  the  De  Wolfes." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  cast  an  inquiring  look  at  Frank,  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  I  understand  your  doings." 

This  was  seen  by  Emily,  and  she  said,  "  There  is  not 
an  individual  in  this  house,  or  upon  this  place,  who  had 
anything  to  do  with,  or  knows  anything  about,  the 
removal  of  Julia's  body,  or  where  it  is  deposited,  except 
myself.  Those  who  bore  it  from  this  house  cannot  be 
traced ;  you  may  therefore  as  well  rest  satisfied.  I  can 
conceive  of  no  injury  done  you,  uncle,"  said  she,  as  her 
eye  rested  upon  him. 


EMILY    BURIES   JULIA.  153 

Mr.  Le  Rux  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment!  But 
there  she  sat,  calm  and  self-possessed,  meeting  his 
steady  gaze  unshrinkingly. 

"  Surely,"  thought  he,  "  I  have  never  before  met  a 
person  like  you."  In  spite  of  himself,  he  was  disarmed 
of  his  anger.  Then,  turning  to  Frank,  he  said,  "  I  am 
happy  in  becoming  convinced  that  you  have  not  been 
accessory  to  this  affair.  You  are  womanish  in  your 
feelings,  but  you  must  become  a  man  upon  this  subject. 
Such  things  as  these  will  work  insubordination  upon 
the  plantation.  Young  ladies  and  gentlemen  cannot 
live  without  a  maintenance,  and  some  one  must  support 
them.  This  has  been  a  foolish  whim  of  yours,"  said 
he,  addressing  Emily ;  "  but  I  trust  it  will  not  produce 
any  serious  result.  What  could  have  put  it  into  your 
head  to  love  that  girl  so  1 " 

"  I  loved  her  because  she  was  worthy  of  my  love, 
and  needed  a  friend  ;  and  I  think  the  Lord  put  it  into 
my  heart." 

"  What  makes  you  think  it  was  the  Lord,  Emily?" 

"  Because  he  is  the  God  of  the  oppressed,  and  loves 
mercy.  Julia  was  oppressed,  and  I  think  the  Lord 
warmed  my  heart  towards  her." 

"  If  all  the  slaves  were  to  conduct  themselves  as 
foolishly  as  Julia  did,  you  would  soon  find  that  you 
would  have  to  be  your  own  waiter,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux. 

"  That  I  am  willing  to  be,  sir,"  replied  Emily.  "  If 
being  a  '  lady,'  as  it  is  termed,  and  being  '  supported,'  is 
only  brought  about  by  slavery,  I  desire  to  be  no  lady, 
neither  do  I  wish  to  be  supported"  and  she  rose  to  her 
feet  as  she  spoke, 

Again  Frank  beheld  that  holy  light  in  her  eye.  It 
tells  of  inspiration — thought  he — of  some  high  resolve 


154  THE    CUBSE    ENTAILED. 

aided  by  Heaven.  For  an  instant  her  eyes  were  up- 
raised; then,  stepping  before  her  uncle,  she  said:  "  Yes, 
God  has  shown  me  that  these  hands  were  given  me  for 
my  own  use,  and  the  slaves  have  no  more  hands  than  I 
have,  and  no  other  human  being  was  created  to  do  for 
me  what  I  should  do  for  myself.  God  made  ail  alike  ; 
but  men  have  robbed  each  other  of  that  rich  inheritance, 
the  right  to  themselves.  I  blush  to  think  that  I  am 
'supported'  by  slavery,  and  shudder,  when  I  reflect  that 
the  bread  I  eat  is  earned  by  injustice.  That  in  this 
house,  on  this  plantation,  and  all  over  the  South,  are 
enacted  scenes  each  day,  each  hour,  which  should  cause 
a  world  to  blush.  But  these  doings,"  continued  she, 
"  are  winked  at.  Ministers  and  professing  Christians 
sustain  them." 

Emily's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  uncle,  who  said 
nothing  ;  but  lcoked  from  her  to  Frank,  who  sat,  with 
his  arms  folded,  looking  mournfully  at  his  father.  "  I 
will  go  to  my  father,"  said  Emily,  as  she  saw  the  ex- 
pression upon  Frank's  face.  She  arose  and  retired. 
Upon  reaching  her  father's  room,  she  threw  herself  into 
a  chair  and  wept. 

Her  father  looked  upon  her,  and  said,  "  You  need 
rest,  Emily." 

"  No,  father,"  replied  Emily.  "  It  is  not  for  myself  I 
weep ;  it  is  not  because  I  have  watched  by  the  sick 
and  dying  bed  of  Julia,  until  nature  is  exhausted,  that 
I  weep;  but  I  weep  over  this  oppressed  people  —  this 
guilty  land.  Methinks  that  at  this  moment  I  would 
most  willingly  die,  if,  by  so  doing,  slaveholders  might 
be  brought  to  a  sense  of  their  guilt,  and  cease  this 
wicked  system  of  human  oppression." 


EMILY  BURIES  JULIA.  155 

Her  father  bowed  his  head,  and  Emily  thought  she 
saw  him  tremble. 

"  Has  my  father  ever  been  a  slaveholder  ? "  thought 
she,  and  then  came  the  recollection  that  he  was  a  Le 
Rux,  and  for  years  that  family  had  dealt  in  the  bodies 
and  souls  of  men.  "  Ah ! "  thought  she,  "  slavery  is 
the  stepping-stone  to  every  other  crime, — to  all  the 
black  catalogue  of  crimes." 

Her  father  was  alarmed  at  her  agitation,  and  said, 
"  Come,  my  child,  you  must  not  thus  give  way  to  your 
unpleasant  thoughts.  Here  is  fresh  water,  wash  and 
dry  your  eyes ;  and  be  more  calm,  I  beseech  you." 

"  It  does  me  good  to  weep,  this  morning,  dear  father," 
replied  Emily.  "  Besides,  I  cannot  so  easily  dry  my 
tears ;  but  I  will  walk  in  the  garden." 

At  that  moment  the  bell  summoned  them  to  break- 
fast. "  Excuse  me  this  morning,  dear  father,"  she  said, 
and  withdrew. 

Emily  was  alone  in  the  garden.  "  It  is  best  for  my 
wounded  spirit,"  thought  she.  "  I  will  lift  up  my  heart  in 
thankfulness  to  Him  who  has  been,  and  ever  will  be, 
my  support  in  the  hour  of  trouble."  Before  her  father 
returned,  Emily  was  calm  and  cheerful.  Going  to  her 
chamber,  she  threw  on  her  bonnet,  and  again  sought 
the  open  air. 

Dinah  was  in  the  yard,  with  water,  performing  her 
morning  labor  on  the  steps.  Emily  thought  her  head 
was  bent  lower  than  usual,  and  she  addressed  her  in 
a  kind  manner.  As  Dinah  lifted  herself  up,  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  she  stood  upon  her  feet.  "  O  Dinah," 
said  she,  "  you  are  fast  wearing  out." 

"  Oh !  marcy,  yes,"  said  Dinah.  "  Dear  Miss  Em'ly, 
I 's  jest  'pletely  worn  out  now.     I 's  got  no  strengf  at 


156  THE    CURSE   E2fT  AILED. 

all.  My  back  jest  ake  all  de  time;  my  feet  swell, 
and  my  hands  all  cramp  up.  I  t'inks  de  Lord  '11  take 
me  puty  soon." 

"  Yes,"  said  Emily ;  "  be  patient.  The  Lord  will 
soon  release  you,  and  take  you  to  himself." 

As  Dinah  sat  down  upon  the  steps,  Emily  seated 
herself  by  her  side,  and  taking  her  hand,  said,  "  How 
hard  you  must  have  worked,  Dinah ! "  Her  heart  was 
full  as  she  spoke. 

Dinah  was  completely  overcome,  and  burst  into  tears. 
After  her  grief  had  subsided,  she  said :  "  Law,  now, 
good  Miss  Em'ly,  don't  t'ink  ole  Dinah  fool.  I  b'ars 
my  troubles  bery  well,  but  w'en  I  see's  you 's  been  cry- 
in',  I  jest  t'inks  my  own  heart  break  for  sartin.  But 
I 's  jest  sure,  I  can't  stand  dis,  w'en  you 's  so  good,  an' 
young  Mas'r  Frank,  too.  O  Lord !  it  makes  me  feel 
rael  bad.     Dinah  jest  wish  she'd  money  now." 

"  And  what  would  you  do  with  it  ?  "  asked  Emily. 
"  O  law !  I  'd  jest  gib  it  to  Miss  Em'ly." 

"  And  what  would  you  have  me  do  with  it?" 

"  Oh!  I  hearn  ole  mas'r' say,  yourn  fader  ain't  got  no 
money,  an'  so  he 's  keepin'  'im,  an'  Miss  Em'ly  wid 
'im ;  an'  he  say  you  must  let  de  niggers  'lone,  an'  dat 
you  make  too  much  fuss  wid  de  oberseer,  an'  dat  de 
oberseer  should  w'ip  Joe."  ^^ 

At  this  instant,  Emily  observed  that  Frank  had 
approached,  and  was  standing  within  hearing  distance. 
He  spoke  kindly  to  Dinah,  and  then  said,  "  Are  you 
sick,  cousin?  These  things  will  wear  you  to  a  shadow 
in  a  short  time." 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  garden,"  said  Emily,  as  she  gave 
her  arm  to  Frank. 

They  walked  in  silence  for   a   few   minutes,  when 


EMILY   BURIES  JULIA.  157 

Frank  again  remarked,  "  These  scenes  will  worry  you 
to  death,  Emily." 

"  I  shall  live,  dear  cousin,"  replied  Emily,  "  to  do 
and  suffer  all  that  God  wills ;  and  I  trust  I  may  be  en- 
abled to  suffer  patiently.  I  feel  that  I  have  but  just 
began  my  sufferings.  I  have  a  presentiment,  which  I 
cannot  communicate  to  you,  of  something  wrong." 
Frank  was  silent,  and  she  continued :  "  I  have  hitherto 
known  but  little  of  myself  or  of  the  world.  I  have 
thought  that  I  understood  my  father.  But  I  am  con- 
vinced there  is  that  about  him  which  I  do  not  under- 
stand, and  that  which  he  does  not  wish  me  to  under- 
stand. I  am  also  convinced  that  it  is  weighing  him 
down  to  his  grave.  God  grant  that  the  load  which 
hangs  so  heavily  upon  him  be  not  one  of  guilt." 

A  deep  sigh  escaped  her,  and  she  continued :  "  I 
have  fears  for  you,  Frank.  Stand  firm,  I  beseech  you, 
in  the  strength  of  Him  who  is  stronger  than  wicked 
men,  or  spirits.  I  feel,  that  I  have  learned  much  by 
communing  with  God,  and  my  own  heart,  within  the 
last  few  days." 

14 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

emily's  interference  concerning  the  slaves. 

At  this  time  they  had  left  the  garden,  and  were  about 
to  rest  themselves  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  when 
Frank  saw  his  father  enter  one  of  the  cabins. 

"  This  way,"  said  Emily ;  and  they  advanced  to 
where  they  could  hear  what  was  passing  in  the  cabin. 
"  Listen,"  said  Emily.  They  did  so,  and  heard  Joe 
telling  Mr.  Le  Rux  that  he  had  never  disobeyed  him, 
in  the  five  years  he  had  been  on  the  plantation ;  and 
that  now  he  had  only  "'beyed  young  Mas'r  Frank 
w'en  ole  mas'r  gone."  Then  came  the  voice  of  the 
overseer,  and  Frank  heard  him  repeat  what  he  knew  to 
be  falsehood  after  falsehood. 

"  Will  you  return  to  the  house,  cousin  ?  "  said  Frank, 
at  the  same  time  withdrawing  his  arms  from  hers,  and 
hurrying  into  the  cabin.  He  was  horrified,  as  he 
entered,  at  seeing  poor  Joe  tied  up  by  his  hands  to  a 
beam  overhead,  in  such  a  manner,  that  his  toes  could 
but  just  touch  the  ground ;  and  the  overseer,  with  whip 
in  hand,  ready  to  "  come  down"  upon  his  victim.  Joe 
was  tied  with  his  back  towards  the  door.  Mr.  Le  Rux 
was  also  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door,  and  the 
overseer  only  saw  Frank  enter.  He  looked  at  him  with 
an  air  of  malicious  triumph ;  and  then,  with  a  force 
which  almost  brought  him  from  the  ground,  gave  the 
blow. 

(168) 


EMILY    RESCUES   JOE.  159 

There  was  a  smothered  groan  from  Joe,  as  the  whip 
rebounded  from  his  bare  back. 

"  Father  ! "  said  Frank,  "  Joe  is  not  deserving"  —  but 
before  the  sentence  was  finished,  blow  after  blow  fol- 
lowed in  quick  succession,  cutting  to  the  bone  each 
time,  while  the  blood  followed  the  lash. 

"  Villain !  "  said  Frank,  "  desist !  Thou  art  a  liar." 
But  down  it  came  again.  "  Do  not  strike  again,"  said 
Frank,  as  he  sprang  towards  him.  The  overseer  did 
not  heed,  but  seemed  rather  to  increase  the  force  of  the 
blows  every  time  Frank  spoke.  The  flesh  was  literally 
flayed  from  Joe's  back.  He  endured  the  torture  in 
silence.  The  whip  was  again  raised,  and  Frank  stepped 
forward  to  seize  it,  when  Emily  sprang  upon  the  box 
that  had  been  used  by  the  overseer  to  fasten  Joe  to  the 
beam,  and  hastily  cut  the  rope  that  bound  him,  and  he 
fell  to  the  ground  with  some  violence.  Instantly  she 
was  at  his  side,  and,  severing  the  cord  that  held  his 
wrists,  she  said : 

"  Thou  art  a  man,  for  such  thou  wert  created.  God 
has  never  taken  thy  manhood  from  thee.  Claim  it, 
even  at  the  peril  of  thy  4ife  —  for  what  is  life  to  thee 
as  thou  art  ?  " 

Frank  had  endeavored  to  lift  Joe's  head,  as  she  was 
speaking.  A  faint  "  Lord  bless  you,"  came  from  his 
lips,  and  he  swooned. 

"  Thou  art  a  wretch — a  murderer!"  said  Emily,  as 
she  looked  at  the  overseer.  "  Thou  art  not  a  man"  con- 
tinued she,  "  but  a  demon.  But  thou  wilt  soon  meet 
thy  doom  from  that  God  who  has  witnessed  all  thy  un- 
holy deeds." 

Emily  left  the  cabin.     As  she  disappeared,  the  over- 


160  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

seer's  rage  seemed  to  know  no  bounds.  He  grated  his 
teeth  he  foamed  at  the  mouth,  and  swore  horribly. 

As  he  raised  his  foot  to  kick  the  prostrate  body  of 
Joe,  who  had  fallen  upon  his  face,  Frank  stepped  be- 
tween them,  at  the  same  time  telling  his  father  that 
Joe  would  smother.  Frank  turned  the  poor  slave's 
head  so  that  he  could  get  air.  Then,  addressing  his 
father,  who  had  not  yet  spoken,  he  said :  "  I  would 
gladly  have  been  heard,  before  this  unholy  act  was 
committed  ;  but  you  did  not  see  fit  to  listen  to  me,  and 
there  is  now  another  sin  added  to  thy  already  long  list. 
Why  did  you  take  the  word  of  that  miserable,  lying 
fellow?  Is  it  that  in  him  my  father  finds  his  level, 
that  he  takes  him  for  the  man  of  his  counsel,  and 
spurns  his  son  ?  " 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  silent  with  astonishment  at  Frank's 
spirit.  Emily  now  re-entered  the  cabin,  bearing  on  her 
arm  a  coverlid,  and  in  her  hand  a  bottle  of  liniment. 
Joe's  consciousness  had  returned.  Emily  looked  at  her 
uncle,  and  said :  "  Will  you  please  to  send  the  execu- 
tioner away  ?  He  has  already  done  his  work  ;  he  cer- 
tainly cannot  wish  to  witness,  an  act  of  mercy." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  still  silent,  and  Emily  again  ad- 
dressed him.  "  It  is  fitting  that  I  should  retire.  You 
and  Frank  will,  doubtless,  perform  this  act,  to  the  best 
of  your  ability.  This  liniment  my  father  brought 
from  France ;  it  is  very  healing,  and  will  prevent  in- 
flammation ;"  and  she  handed  him  the  bottle. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  did  not  take  it,  but  said :  "  I  have  been 
waiting  to  see  this  scene  through.  If  you  are  about  to 
retire,  I  will  say,  that  perhaps  it  might  have  served  you 
better,  at  least  in  future,  had  you  brought  something 
with  you  from  France  besides  liniment." 


EMILY    RESCUES   JOE.  161 

He  was  evidently  agitated,  but  Emily  was  calm. 
He  could  not  meet  her  steady  gaze  without  dropping 
his  eyes.  There  was  anger  depicted  in  his  counten- 
ance. 

"  Has  my  uncle  more  to  say  to  me  ? "  asked  Emily, 
quietly. 

"  My  business  is  with  your  father,  madam,"  replied 
Mr.  Le  Rux.  "  I  am  sorry  to  be  under  the  necessity 
of  paining  him  by  a  recital  of  your  conduct." 

"  I  trust,  sir,"  said  Emily,  "  that  it  will  not  pain  my 
father  to  learn  that  I  have  been  instrumental  in  saving 
an  innocent  man  from  the  lash,  or  to  know  that  a  kind 
Providence  interposed  in  your  behalf,  and  put  it  in  my 
heart  to  cut  short  the  sin  you  were  committing,  in 
authorizing  the  act.  It  would  be  dreadful,  sir,  for  you 
to  enter  into  judgment  with  even  what  guilt  you  have 
already  upon  you,  unrepented  of." 

As  Emily  retired,  the  .overseer  approached  Joe  with 
some  salt,  to  sprinkle  upon  his  back.  There  was  the 
same  fiendish  expression  upon  his  countenance.  Frank 
thought  there  was  something  of  an  uncertainty  in  his 
manner,  however,  as  he  glanced  from  Joe  to  Mr.  Le 
Rux. 

Frank  spoke  to  Joe,  and,  taking  hold  of  his  shoulders, 
soon  had  him  lying  on  his  face,  upon  the  coverlid  that 
Emily  had  spread  over  the  straw  which  heretofore  had 
served  for  Joe's  bed.  He  then  proceeded  to  annoint  and 
bind  up  his  wounds ;  they  were,  as  Frank  supposed, 
deep  and  long. 

The  overseer  turned,  and  doggedly  left  the  cabin. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  also  left  in  a  few  minutes,  without  saying 
one  word  to  Frank.  But  as  he  emerged  into  the  yard, 
Frank  heard  him  say,  "  Foiled  again,  and  by  her !  Am 
14* 


162  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

I  become  a  child,  that  thus  she  holds  a  power  over  me  ? 
By  Heaven !  this  shall  not  be  " —  at  the  same  time  stop- 
ping, as  if  about  to  turn  back.  Then  he  moved  for- 
ward again  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  evidently  in 
no  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

Emily's  first  impulse,  upon  leaving  the  quarters,  was 
to  seek  her  father ;  but  the  words  of  her  uncle  —  "  My 
business  is  with  your  father,"  —  deterred  her,  and  she 
said  to  herself:  "  No,  he  shall  have  the  first  interview. 
My  father  did  not  speak  to  me  as  freely  as  formerly, 
and  he  also  shall  have  his  own  time  to  free  his  mind." 
For  she  thought  that  conscience,  or  at  least  something 
which  she  did  not  understand,  was  doing  its  work  upon 
him.  She  therefore  went  directly  to  her  own  room. 
She  was  oppressed,  and  her  mind  reverted  back  to 
France,  —  to  her  grandfather.  She  thought  of  the 
happy  hours  she  had  spent  with  him,  and  of  his  devo- 
tion to  her.  At  length,  taking  up  her  pen,  she  wrote  as 
follows,  to  her  grandfather. 

(TO   MONSIEUR  AMERICUS  LEROY.) 

"  My  Dear  Grandfather,  —  How  consoling  would 
it  be  to  your  Emily,  could  she  now  see  you.  Oh !  that 
I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  that  I  could  fly  to  you.  Do 
you  ask,  '  How  is  this,  my  child,  when  you  so  much 
wished  to  go  to  America  ? ' 

"  America !  The  place  is  hateful  to  me.  It  is  false, 
that  it  is  the  '  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the 
brave.'  America  is  a  mockery  to  freedom!  It  is  a 
land  of  oppression,  —  of  the  direst  oppression  that  ever 
existed  upon  earth.  I  tell  you,  dear  grandfather,  it  is  a 
land  of  whips,  chains,  groans,  and  tears.  It  is  a  land 
of  blood.     It  is  a  land  where  man  is  converted  into  a 


EMILY   KESCUES   JOE.  163 

thing.  It  is  a  land  where  men  debase  and  brutalize 
themselves,  and  sell  their  own  offspring  into  bondage. 
It  is  a  land  where  women  are  forcibly  robbed  of  their 
virtue,  and  then  made  to  drag  out  a  miserable  existence 
under  the  lash,  exposed  to  the  brutal  lusts  of  master 
and  overseer.  This,  dear  grandfather,  is  what  exists  in 
America ;  I  have  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes ;  I  have 
heard  it  with  my  own  ears ;  here  in  the  family  of  my 
uncle,  William  Le  Rux.  But  it  troubles  them  not. 
Here  my  aunt  as  calmly  talks  of  raising  negroes  as 
your  peasants  do  of  raising  hogs  for  market,  in  order 
to  increase  their  gain. 

"  And  my  father,  you  will  ask,  — '  What  of  him  ? ' 

"  Well,  he  who  loved  his  Emily  so  well,  and  who 
talked  so  much  of  the  pride  of  his  country,  —  of  her 
noble  institutions,  of  her  sons  and  daughters,  of  her 
freedom,  and  thus  warmed  my  heart  —  has  become  like 
a  dumb  man.  He  sits  and  looks,  and  looks  and  sits. 
He  walks,  and  sometimes  sighs. 

"  Do  you  ask,  whether  he  loves  his  Emily  as  well  as 
ever  ?  I  cannot  tell  you.  He  is  unhappy,  and  I  do  not 
know  the  cause.  I  am  unhappy,  and  he  does  know  the 
cause ;  for,  although  he  has  not  asked  me,  yet  I  have 
told  him.  He  is  melancholy,  and  seems  to  wish  to  be 
alone. 

"  The  occurrences  in  this  house,  and  on  this  planta- 
tion, for  the  last  few  days,  would,  I  am  convinced, 
arouse  the  feelings  of  any  one  who  was  not  lost  to  a 
sense  of  justice,  —  or,  whose  feelings  had  not  become 
dormant.  I  tremble  and  hope,  by  turns,  for  my  father ; 
for,  with  all  his  silence,  I  have  seen  him  weep.  He  has 
at  least  some  sympathy. 


164  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  I  must  leave  this  place,  dear  grandfather.  There  is 
a  curse  upon  it ;  a  blighting  curse  in  all  its  borders  — 
yea,  even  in  its  very  heart.  I  seem  to  see  the  destroying 
angel  about  to  deal  vengeance  upon  it.  I  wish  to 
escape,  and  turn  not  back,  even  to  look.  Oh !  how  I 
remember  the  happy  hours  spent  with  you,  administer- 
ing to  your  wants,  when  permitted  by  my  father  and 
mother  to  remain  with  you,  rather  than  attend  them  in 
their  gay  and  fashionable  round  of  pleasure.  It  was 
profitable  for  me,  for  you  taught  me  of  God  —  of  his 
works  —  of  the  character  of  man  —  of  God's  designs 
in  creating  him.  It  was  you  who  taught  me  to  lift  up 
my  thoughts  to  heaven ;  and  I  bless  you  for  it.  I  have 
learned  much  since  I  came  here,  by  thus  communing 
with  my  own  spirit.  The  Spirit  from  above  has  entered 
into  my  soul,  and  it  is  teaching  me  truth.  I  long  to  be 
led  into  all  truth.  But  the  religion  here  is  a  mockery ; 
men  here  know  nothing  of  the  true  God.  Verily,  they 
worship  a  God  of  their  own  imaginings,  which  they 
have  made  so  much  like  themselves,  that  he  permits 
them  to  commit  all  manner  of  sin ;  and  then  they  say 
it  is  according  to  the  will  of  the  Most  High.  But  the 
God  of  justice  is  not  asleep,  neither  has  he  taken  a 
long  journey.  I  see  him,  I  hear  him,  I  feel  him  ;  and, 
I  repeat  it,  he  is  preparing  to  deal  out  vengeance  upon 
this  guilty  nation. 

"  When  I  parted  with  you,  my  more  than  father,  you 
bade  me  speak  freely  to  you,  by  letter.  I  shall  do  so. 
You  gave  me  five  thousand  francs  for  my  own  private 
use.  I  found  on  board  the  vessel  an  exile,  with  a  wife 
and  child.  They  were  ill  on  board, — that  is,  Mrs. 
Revey  gave  birth  to  a  son.  They  needed  aid  and  I 
bestowed  it. 


EMILY   RESCUES   JOE.  165 

"  On  arriving  in  port,  I  loaned  him  four  thousand 
francs,  which  enabled  him  to  enter  into  a  profitable 
business,  near  the  city  of  New  Orleans.  I  have  his 
friendship,  and  I  prize  it.  He  has  recently  been  of 
great  service  to  me.     Farewell. 

"Emily  Le  Rux." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    INTERVIEW     BETWEEN  .  WILLIAM     AND     EDWARD    LE 

RUX. 

At  dinner,  all  made  their  appearance  but  Frank. 
]\Ir.  Le  Rux  replied  to  the  request  of  his  wife,  to  "eat 
of  the  pastry,"  that  his  stomach  was  not  right.  Anxious 
to  learn  the  fate  of  poor  Joe,  Emily,  after  spending  a 
few  minutes  with  her  father,  went  into  the  yard.  In  a 
short  time,  Frank  approached  from  the  slave  quarters. 

"  I  have  not  seen  the  overseer,"  said  he,  "  since  he 
left  the  cabin.  Joe  is  miserably  bad.  I  will  attend 
him  myself  to-night.  I  trust  you  will  retire  early,  dear 
cousin,  and  find  the  rest  you  so  much  need." 

At  eight  in  the  evening,  Emily  took  leave  of  her 
father,  and  retired  as  Frank  had  suggested. 

She  had  scarcely  reached  her  chamber  when  her 
uncle  entered  the  room  of  her  father,  and,  after  a  few 
minutes,  spoke  thus  :  "  Edward,  it  pains  me  to  be 
obliged  to  speak  to  you  upon  this  subject  —  that  is, 
your  daughter's  interference  in  my  affairs,  both  in  the 
house  and  on  the  plantation." 

Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux  was  silent,  and  William  con- 
tinued :  "  1  think  you  understand  me,  brother."  Still 
Edward  was  silent,  and  William  went  on:  "I  had 
thought  that  Emily's  interference  would  end  with 
Julia ;  but  she  seems  determined  to  stand  between  me 
and  all  justice.     I  will  not  admit  that  she  holds  any 

(166) 


MEETING  OF  THE  BROTHERS.  167 

dower  over  me,  and  yet  she  has  carried  every  point,  and 
kept  me  almost  silent.  She  is  certainly  very  cunning. 
She  is  only  fit  to  live  in  France." 

Edward  was  agitated,  and  William  said :  "  I  do 
not  wonder  at  your  sensitiveness,  brother,  but  cannot 
you  teach  her  to  look  at  this  thing  differently  ?  " 

Edward  arose.  He  was  still  agitated.  He  took  a 
few  turns  across  the  room.  There  was  evidently  a 
struggle  in  his  mind.  At  length  he  said :  "  Had  you 
and  I  been  reared  in  France,  brother,  would  not  the 
scenes  and  occurrences  in  this  house,  and  on  this  plan- 
tation, for  the  last  few  days,  have  shocked  us  ?  I  am 
convinced  that  such  would  have  been  the  case.  Every 
person  with  whom  I  conversed  abroad,  who  was  at  all 
acquainted  with  our  '  peculiar  institution,'  condemned 
it.  All  who  had  travelled  at  the  South  were  shocked 
at  what  they  had  seen  and  heard. 

"  In  France,"  continued  Edward  Le  Rux,  "  I  learned 
to  be  a  free-thinker.  I  have  looked  upon  man's  respon- 
sibilities as  trifling  —  as  extending  no  farther  than  this 
life.  To-day  I  stand  in  the  room  of  my  proud  and  (I 
once  thought)  noble  father  —  in  the  house  of  my  birth 
—  a  monument  of  the  sin  of  American  slavery.  You, 
who  know  all  —  you,  who  have  promised  —  could  you 
but  know  the  agony  of  my  soul ;  could  you  but  have 
realized  its  horror  as  1  listened  to  the  story  of  Julia  De 
Wolfe,  and  thought  from  what  she  had  escaped ;  could 
you,  I  say,  have  felt  all  this,  you  might  perhaps  have 
been  warned ;  you  might  perhaps  have  learned  to  pity. 
"  Would  you  have  me  teach  my  Emily  that  which 
would  rob  her  of  the  consolations  -possessed  by  that 
noble,  but  broken-hearted,  daughter  of  him  we  both 
loved  and  esteemed  so  highly,  Albert  De  Wolfe,  who 


168  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

loved  his  Julia  as  I  do  my  Emily  ?  Sixteen  years  ago 
he  died.  His  father  could  not  meet  his  expiring  look. 
Think  you  he  would  have  thus  shrank,  if  guilt  had  not 
been  upon  his  soul?  But  he  has  gone  to  a  higher 
tribunal  than  the  deathbed  of  Albert.  Let  us  beware, 
brother,  how  we  deal  with  our  children ;  let  us  keep  in 
mind  the  deathbed. 

"  I  have  said  that  I  was  a  free-thinker,  although 
there  were  sometimes  whisperings  in  my  soul.  A 
soul!  Oh,  how  the  word  sounds  to  me!  But  it  is 
even  so.  I  am  an  accountable  being,  though  I  then 
drowned  those  whisperings  in  dissipation. 

"  The  result  you  know.  You  proffered  me  a  home  ; 
I  returned  to  America.  I  became  an  inmate  of  the 
house  of  my  birth,  where  I  spent  my  childhood,  where 
my  proud  father  breathed  his  last.  I  brought  with  me 
my  Emily,  the  sole  pride  of  my  life,  the  idol  of  my 
heart.  And  what  did  I  see  ?  I  saw  her  whole  soul  re- 
volting at  the  cruelties  inflicted  upon  an  oppressed  and 
downtrodden  race.  I  found  her  mind  filled  with  truths 
and  arguments  of  which  I  had  never  dreamed.  '  From 
whence  came  they  ?  thought  I.  They  breathed  of  in- 
spiration. 

"  And  then,  there  was  your  son,  brother :  how  con- 
genial their  feelings  upon  this  point.  And  lastly  came 
the  conviction,  there  is  a  God,  and  he  has  breathed 
into  their  hearts  eternal  truths.  God  is  their  strength. 
Who  can  gainsay  or  resist  them  ? 

"I  was  smitten  in  view  of  my  guilt,  and  so  do  I  con- 
tinue. I  cannot,  as  I  used  to,  meet  her  whom  I  love  so 
dearly,  whom  I  have  thought  would  be  my  solace 
through  life.  I  listened  to  the  story  of  Julia  De  "Wolfe. 
It  was  then  that  I  became  more  than  ever  convinced 


MEETING   OF   THE   BROTHEES.  169 

that  there  was  a  God,  from  whom  I  could  not  escape. 
I  have  sought  his  pardon,  but  cannot  obtain  it.  I  am 
undone !  My  sins  are  too  great  to  be  forgiven.  I  have 
occasionally  sought  to  soothe  Emily's  feelings  in  regard 
to  slavery,  but  I  felt  as  if  the  agonies  of  hell  were 
upon  me,  and  my  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth- 
It  was  a  sin,  brother,  and  may  God  not  lay  it  to  my 
account.  Ask  me  not  to  tear  from  my  bosom  my  only 
child,  or  force  from  her  heart  her  only  remaining  hope 
— her  deep  sense  of  right,  and  unflinching  resolution  to 
pursue  it,  added  to  a  firm  reliance  upon  God.  For  yodfc 
must  know,  brother,  that  I  would  sooner  sever  my 
right  arm  from  my  body  —  I  would  sooner  die  the 
death  of  a  felon.  Her  impulses  are  holy  !  I  repeat  it, 
let  us  beware  how  we  deal  with  our  children,  brother, 
for  the  living  fire  of  Jehovah  is  uppn  them.  It  has  even 
entered  into  their  souls.  Our  days  will  soon  be  ended. 
Let  us  not  add  another  sin  to  those  already  committed. 
I  must  go  out  from  you,  but  whither,  I  know  not.  I 
will  sooner  become  an  exile,  or  a  beggar  in  a  strange 
land,  than  remain  where  there  is  no  safety  for  me  or 
mine.  Think,  oh  think !  what  must  be  my  feelings. 
Look  at  the  North  —  at  the  infamous  Fugitive  Bill 
before  Congress.  Where  are  the  slaves  to  find  safety 
now?" 

Edward  was  so  exceedingly  agitated  that  he  trembled 
from  head  to  foot.  "  O  God ! "  said  he — "  but  I  have  no 
God  !  There  is  a  gulf  between  us  so  deep  that,  although 
I  sometimes  seem  to  catch  glimpses  of  his  purity  and 
love,  yet  I  cannot  approach  him. 

"  Look  at  me,  brother,  and  learn  that  slavery  is  a 
sin ;  that  it  blights  wherever  it  goes  ;  that  from  gener- 
ation to  generation  it  entails  misery,  degradation,  and 
15 


170  THE    CURSE   EXTAILED. 

crime ;  that  it  is  a  curse  in  this  world,  and  will  at  last 
shut  its  votaries  out  of  heaven.  I  already  feel  the 
worm  which  will  gnaw  upon  my  soul  through  an 
eternity." 

Here  Edward  Le  Rux  .sank  into  a  chair,  exhausted 
by  the  intensity  of  his  emotions.  He  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  said,  half  aloud :  "  There  is  that 
which  would,  which  might  save ;  and  yet  where  ?  Oh, 
where  is  the  proof?  I  might,  and  yet  how  can  I  dis- 
I  close  ?  Oh,  how  can  I  pain  his  aged  heart  thus  ?  But 
I  I  will,  I  will !  He  will  protect  them,  though  he  spurn 
me." 

Thus  had  Edward .  Le  Rux  spoken ;  and  William 
had  not  interrupted  him.  He  was  touched  by  his 
agony  of  feeling,  for  he  had  loved  him.  He  had 
promised  him,  but  he  had  not  expected  that  he  or  his 
would  ever  come  between  him  and  his  interest.  His 
heart  was  not  touched  by  the  truths  he  had  heard,  for 
his  spirit  had  become  dormant  and  utterly  unable  to 
appreciate  eternal  truths.  The  brothers  remained  silent 
for  a  few  minutes.  Edward's  eyes  were  still  shaded  by 
his  hand.  The  clock  struck  the  hour  of  ten.  "  It  is 
later  than  I  supposed,"  said  William ;  "  I  am  not  well, 
and  must  seek  rest." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

CHOLERA,    FRIGHT,    AND    DEATH. 

William  Le  Rux  descended  the  stairs  and  entered 
the  hall,  when  he  heard  a  rap  upon  the  kitchen-door. 
He  started,  for,  as  he  had  said,  he  expected  to  hear  that 
half  the  niggers  on  the  plantation  were  dead. 

But  this  was  not  Bill's  errand.  As  Mr.  Le  Rux 
opened  the  door,  he  said,  with  his  eyes  dilated  and  his 
body  trembling  with  fear :  "  O  Mas'r  Le  Rux !  I 
he  am  drefful  fuss  in  oberseer's  room,  an'  I  find  'im  all 
cramp  up,  an'  pukin'  like  ebery  ting.     An'  'im  jest  say, 

0  Lord,  O  Lord,  I  die,  ebery  single  minit ;  an'  'im  say,  I 
jest  run  tell  mas'r  cum  right  dar." 

Instantly  Mr.  Le  Rux  became  deadly  pale,  and  fairly 
gasped  for  breath.  As  he  sank  into  a  chair,  he  said : 
"  He 's  got  the  cholera,  Bill.  I  can't  go ;  I  am  not  well ; 
and  you  must  go  and  see  to  him  yourself." 

"  Oh !  de  c'ol'ra,  mas'r !  'Im  be  drefful,  mas'r ;  'im 
worse  dan  oberseer ;  'im  kill  niggers  in  one  minit.  Oh, 
he  skar'  me  awrfuly !  I 's  all  gone,  mas'r ! "  and  Bill 
dropped  down  upon  the  steps. 

"  But  you  must  go,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux,  "  and  that 
immediately.  Stand  on  your  feet  now,  and  don't  make 
such  a  fuss,  you  are  only  scared,  and  npt  hurt,  Bill ! "' 

Bill  arose  to  his  feet,  while  his  master  was  speaking, 
but  stood  trembling  and  holding  on  by  the  doorway. 

"  Go  now,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux  "  and  do  your  duty,  or 

1  will  send  you  to  the  overseer  in  the  morning,  and  he 
shah  give  you  twenty  lashes." 

mi) 


172  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  Oh !  de  c'ol'ra  's  got  'im,  mas'r,"  said  Bill,  as  he 
clenched  tighter  to  the  door. 

"  Well,  go  and  do  your  best,  Bill,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux, 
"  or  he  '11  die." 

"  O  mas'r,  me  don't  want  to  die  and  go  wid  him. 
Oh !  I 's  so  sick,  mas'r,"  continued  Bill,  "  /'s  so  sick, 
an'  I  ain't  got  no  med'ein'  neder." 

"  I  '11  send  some  laudanum,"  replied  Mr.  Le  Rux.  He 
arose,  entered  a  closet,  took  down  a  basket  containing 
some  phials,  examined  it,  replaced  it,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  his  wife's  room. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  sitting  up,  waiting  for  her  hus- 
band, but  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  easy-chair. 

"  Where  is  the  laudanum  ? "  asked  he,  hurriedly. 
But  she  did  not  awake. 

"  Wake  up,  wife,"  said  he,  as  he  touched  her  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Oh  !  I  've  been  fast  asleep,"  said  she,  with  a  yawn, 
then,  rubbing  her  eyes,  she  continued :  "  What  kept 
you  out  so  late  ?  "  And  she  made  a  movement  indica- 
tive of  going  to  bed. 

"  I  want  the  laudanum,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux. 

"  Oh !  it 's  here,"  said  she,  as  she  opened  the  closet. 
"  I  was  afraid  you  would  take  the  cholera  in  the  night. 
I  have  taken  a  few  drops  myself  as  a  preventive ;  and 
I  have  brought  the  brandy,  too,"  added  she,  as  she 
placed  the  decanter  in  his  hand.  "  I  thought  you  would 
like  it,  with  the  laudanum." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  readily  put  the  bottle  to  his  lips,  and 
Mrs.  Le  Rux  probably  thought  he  had  partaken  very 
liberally,  as  she  looked  rather  anxiously  at  the  bottle 
before  replacing  it  upon  the  shelf.  She  was  about  to 
close  the  door,  when  Mr.  Le  Rux  said :  "  But  the  laud- 


CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION.         173 

anum,  —  I  want  the  laudanum!  Give  it  to  me;  be 
quick." 

After  Mr.  Le  Rux  left  the  room,  his  wife  was  led  to 
wonder  what  he  could  want  of  the  laudanum,  and  she 
followed  him  "to  the  kitchen.  Bill  was  again  seated 
upon  the  steps. 

"  Get  up  now,  immediately,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux  as  he 
handed  him  the  phial. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux,  seeing  it  in  Bill's  hands,  and  not  un- 
derstanding the  importance  of  the  case,  took  it  from  him, 
saying  that  she  must  keep  a  part  of  it.  She  went  to 
the  closet,  took  down  the  aforesaid  basket,  and  emptied 
a  part  of  the  laudanum  into  another  phial. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  again  said,  "  Get  up  now  instantly, 
Bill,  and  go  to  the  overseer.  Give  him  a  teaspoonful  as 
soon  as  you  get  there,  and  rub  him  all  over ;  then  give 
him  another  teaspoonfull." 

Bill  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  the  phial,  it 
shook  so  violently,  that  he  was  utterly  unable  to  hold 
it,  and  it  fell  upon  the  stone  step  and  was  broken. 

"  Oh,  I 's  so  sick,  mas'r,  I  can't  go,  no  how.  I  trem- 
ble all  ober,  an'  break  de  bottle."  He  tried  to  get  upon 
his  feet,  but  this  time  failed  ;  and  showed  symptoms  of 
nausea. 

"  Give  me  the  other  phial,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux  to  his 
wife. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  spare  that,"  said  she.  "  You  '11  want 
it  yourself  before  morning,  you  look  so  dreadfully  now." 

"Do  I  ?  "  responded  he  anxiously.  "  Well,  I  believe 
I  've  got  it  coming  on.     I  guess  1  shall  die  too." 

"  Oh,  dreadful,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux.  "  Who  is  going 
to  die  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  overseer,"  replied  Mr.  Le  Rux,  "  has  got 
15* 


174  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

the  cholera,  and  he  '11  die  before  Bill  will  get  there 
with  the  laudanum." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  fairly  groaned  with  fear,  as  she  brought 
the  other  phial,  and  emptying  part  of  it  into  a  teacup 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Le  Rux,  saying,  "  Oh,  oh,  we  '11  all 
die!  we '11  all  die!" 

This  only  served  to  render  Bill  still  more  powerless . 
to  move.     Now  he  could  not  stand  upon  his  feet  at  all. 

"  Oh,  you  go,  mas'r ;  you  go,  for  you  go  to  meeting. 
You  're  Christian ;  c'ol'ra  won't  take  you,  mas'r.  I 's 
poor  nigger — I  's  drefful  wicked  —  neber  goes  to 
meetin'  —  I'sno  Christian  —  de  c'ol'ra  take  me  rite  off. 
'Im  won't  touch  mas'r." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  getting  very  sick,  and  sank  into  a 
chair. 

"  Oh !  you  '11  die,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux ;  at  the  same 
time,  seizing  the  raw  hide,  she  laid  it  heavily  upon 
Bill's  shoulders,  bidding  him  go  to  the  overseer  imme- 
diately with  the  laudanum,  and  not  sit  there  with  the 
cholera,  and  give  it  to  his  master. 

Bill  was  soon  upon  his  feet,  and  out  of  the  yard,  but 
he  had  not  reached  the  quarters,  before  the  words  of 
his  mistress  —  "Don't  sit  there  with  the  cholera," — 
came  to  his  mind,  and  fear  again  disabled  him.  Drop- 
ping upon  the  ground,  he  sent  forth  most  terrific 
shrieks. 

"  I 's  got  de  c'ol'ra,  for  misses  say  so.  If  de  laudanum 
be  good  for  mas'r  and  de  oberseer,  den  'im  be  good  for 
me."  And,  putting  the  phial  to  his  mouth,  he  drank 
about  two-thirds  of  its  contents.  Then,  replacing  the 
cork,  he  laid  down  both  phial  and  spoon  by  his  side,  on 
the  ground. 

"Bill  is  awful  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Tie  Rnx,  as  his  shrieks 


CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION.         175 

broke  upon  her  ears.  "  He  has  given  us  all  the  cholera 
— but  I'll  go  and  send  Dinah  to  the  quarters." 

She  was  soon  in  the  loft ;  and,  bidding  Dinah  come 
to  the  kitchen,  she  returned  to  her  husband,  who  yet 
remained  seated  in  his  chair.  He  was  quite  unable  to 
move,  however,  except  to  sway  his  body  to  and  fro. 
There  was  also  an  occasional  indication  of  vomiting. 
Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  now  convinced  that  he  had  the  chol- 
era, beyond  doubt.  "  I  will  seek  Frank,"  thought  she, 
"  and  give  Mr.  Le  Rux  over  to  him." 

She  went  to  Frank's  room,  but  he  was  not  there. 
"  Has  he  gone  off  and  left  us  ?  "  thought  she. 

She  then  sought  Emily,  whom  she  found  asleep. 
Emily  was  soon  awake ;  but  before  she  had  time  to  ask 
what  she  would  have,  Mrs.  Le  Rux  said:  "Oh,  we 
have  all  got  the  cholera,  and  are  all  going  to  die  right 
off!" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Emily.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  get 
up?" 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  answered  in  the  affirmative ;  and  then 
was  proceeding  to  give  a  description  of  the  state  of 
things,  when  Emily  cut  her  short,  by  telling  her  that 
she  might  light  her  lamp,  and  retire,  that  she  would  be 
down  in  a  short  time. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  soon  in  the  kitchen  again.  Poor 
Dinah  had  already  reached  it,  and  was  standing,  bent 
nearly  double,  awaiting  the  orders  of  her  mistress. 
u  You  must  go  to  the  quarters,  Dinah,"  said  Mr3.  Le 
Rux.  "  They  have  got  the  cholera  there,  and  your 
master  has  got  it  too.  Don't  you  see  how  dreadfully 
he  looks  ?  "  she  continued,  trembling  as  she  spoke. 

By  this  time,  Emily  was  near,  but,  hearing  Dinah 
and  her  aunt  in  conversation,  she  stopped,  in  order  that 


176  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

unperceived  she  might  become  better  acquainted  with 
the  circumstances  of  the  case. 

"  I  don't  t'ihk  ole  Dinah  can  get  to  de  quarters  in  de 
dark,  'kase  I 's  so  blind  an'  lame,"  said  Dinah. 

"  Oh !  you  're  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux ;  "  you  are 
scared  at  the  cholera." 

"  I  ain't  one  bit  'fraid  of  'im,"  said  Dinah,  "  an'  I  '11 
try  to  go;  but  I  jest  b'l'eve  mas'r  got  'im  rael  bad,  'kase 
'im  teter  so  in  'im  cha'r." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  "  Bill  started  for  the 
quarters  with  a  phial  of  laudanum,  and  he's  fallen 
down  somewhere.  I  suppose  he  is  dead,  for  I  don't 
hear  him  scream  any  more.  He  is  somewhere  down 
by  the  big  tree.  You  must  find  him,  take  the  phial 
and  spoon,  give  the  overseer  a  teaspoonful  of  the  laud- 
anum, and  rub  him  all  over  with  your  hands ;  then  give 
him  another  teaspoonful  and  rub  him  again." 

"  Oh,  marcy!"  said  Dinah,  I  won't  tuch  'im  for  nof- 
fin',  I  won't  for  'tousand  worlds,  'kase  he 's  ten  'tousand 
times  worse  'dan  de  col'ra.  De  Lord  send  col'ra 
p'r'aps  to  take  ole  Dinah  up ;  but  if  I  jest  tuch  de 
oberseer,  I  '11  live  alwus,  'kase  den  de  Lord  neber  hab 
anyting  to  do  wid  me  arter.  Oberseer  an  awrful  crit- 
ter," continued  she,  "  an'  he 's  jest  got  a  heap  o'  debils 
in  'im ;  an'  'im  kill  July ;  an'  I  won't  tuch  'im,  if  I 's 
w'ipped  to  def!" 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  did  not  wait  to  argue  the  matter,  but 
took  the  raw  hide  which  had  taken  such  an  effect  upon 
Bill,  and  brought  it  down  with  all  her  might  upoji 
old  Dinah's  back,  at  the  same  time  bidding  her  mind 
and  go  to  the  quarters. 

Dinah's  worn-out  frame  staggered  under  the  blow, 
but  she  caught  by  the  table,  at  the  same  time  saying, 


CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION.         177 

8  I  hearn  young  Mas'r  Frank  say,  he  'd  'bey  de  Lord 
rader  dan  man,  an'  I  jest  t'ink  de  Lord  tell  me  not 
tuch  de  oberseer." 

The  raw  hide  was  again  raised,  when  Emily  said, 
"  Is  this  the  way  you  meet  death,  aunt  ?  " 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  shuddered  as  she  turned  to  look;  but 
Emily  had  sprang  forward  to  her  uncle,  who  was  falling 
from  his  chair.  He  groaned,  as  she  eased  him  in  his 
fall  to  the  floor. 

"  Oh !  he  '11  die!"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux ;  "we  '11  all  die!" 

"  And  go  to  judgment,  whip  in  hand,  I  suppose," 
said  Emily. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  now  vomited  freely.  Emily  turned 
away  her  head  in  disgust,  as  she  smelt  the  brandy ; 
and,  being  observed  by  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  she  said,  "  'Tis 
the  preventive,  Emily." 

"  I  will  go  to  the  quarters,  aunt,"  said  Emily,  "  upon 
condition  that  you  will  let  Dinah  retire  to  my  room  in 
my  absence."  This  was  rather  ungraciously  acceded 
to  by  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  and  Dinah  departed  with  a  "  Lord 
bless  you,  Miss  Em'ly,"  upon  her  lips. 

"  Frank  is  at  the  quarters,"  said  Emily.  "  I  will  go 
to  him  ;  but  first  give  me  my'orders." 

These  Mrs.  Le  Rux  repeated,  as  she  had  done  to 
Dinah,  at  the  same  time  expressing  her  surprise  and 
displeasure  that  Frank  should  be  at  the  quarters,  catch- 
ing the  cholera. 

Emily  soon  found  the  body  of  Bill.  She  put  her 
hand  upon  his  forehead,  and  found  that  it  was  cold. 
Judging,  from  what  her  aunt  had  said,  that  he  was 
really  dead,  she  took  the  phial  and  spoon  which  lay  by 
his  side,  and  made  her  way  to  the  cabin  of  Joe.  There 
she  found  Frank. 


ITS  THE    CUBSE    ENTAILED. 

Joe  was  partially  asleep.  He  awoke,  however,  as 
Emily  approached  him,  made  an  effort  to  move,  but 
could  not.  He  looked  up,  and,  seeing  Emily,  said : 
"Oh,  Lord  bless  you,  Miss  Em'ly  —  you's  so  good  to 
Joe.  I 's  not  half  so  bad,  'kase  you  cut  de  rope.  De 
Lord  bless  you,  Miss  Em'ly.  Now,  young  Mas'r 
Frank,"  continued  he,  "  I  want  you  to  read  'gin  'bout 
de  Lord  dat  make  de  niggers,  an'  ebry  body,  an'  make 
you  an'  Miss  Em'ly  so  good." 

Telling  Joe  that  they  must  leave  him  for  the  present, 
Emily  requested  Frank  to  come  with  her. 

Leaving  the  cabin,  she  proceeded  to  inform  Frank 
of  the  state  of  things  at  the  house,  and  also  in  regard 
to  the  overseer. 

"  And  do  you  think,"  inquired  Frank,  "  that  my  father 
really  has  the  cholera  ?  " 

"  He  is  frightened,"  replied  Emily,  "  and  has  taken 
too  much  brandy  as  a  preventive.  Fear  may  bring  on 
the  disease,  as  was  often  the  case  in  France,  where  the 
physicians  decided  that  one-fourth  died  of  fright,  and 
from  taking  too  much  brandy  and  laudanum. 

"  Return  to  the  house,"  said  Frank,  "  and  I  will  look 
after  the  overseer." 

On  approaching  the  door,  Frank  could  distinctly 
hear  oath  after  oath  escape  from  the  overseer's  lips. 
"  This  is  dreadful ! "  thought  he.  He  was  still  more 
horrified  as  he  beheld  the  miserable  wretch.  He  was 
lying  upon  his  bed,  in  an  agony  of  pain,  profaning  the 
name  of  his  Maker.  The  scene  was  dreadful  beyond 
description,  and  the  stench  intolerable.  Frank  wavered 
a  moment ;  then,  advancing  to  the  side  of  the  couch, 
he  turned  the  laudanum  which  remained  in  the  phial 
into  the  spoon,  spoke  to  the  overseer,  and  put  the  spoon 


CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION,         179 

to  his  mouth.  He  looked  at  Frank,  then  gnashed  his 
teeth  together,  while  his  face  became  horridly  distorted. 

"  Miserable  man ! "  said  Frank,  "  I  fear  you  must 
die.     Cannot  you  ask  God  to  forgive  you  ?  " 

With  an  oath,  he  muttered  something  in  which 
Frank  could  distinguish  the  name  of  Julia ;  sprang  up, 
clenched  his  fist,  glared  horribly  at  Frank,  and  fell  back 
upon  his  pillow. 

Thinking  that  he  would  soon  be  in  a  collapse,  Frank 
left  the  room,  and  took  his  way  to  where  Dick  and  some 
dozen  other  slaves  were  quartered,  with  the  intention 
of  sending  Dick  to  the  overseer,  and  one  of  the  others 
to  Joe  ;  but,  to  his  surprise,  the  room  was  empty.  He 
listened,  and  soon  heard  the  voice  of  Dick.  He  fol- 
lowed the  sound,  and  came  upon  the  whole  group. 
They  were  evidently  in  fine  spirits,  and,  from  what 
Frank  could  hear,  he  was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that 
they  were  informed  of  the  sickness  of  the  overseer,  and 
were  already  making  themselves  happy  in  the  prospect 
of  soon  being  rid  of  him.  He  ordered  Dick  to  go  to 
Joe,  and  two  of  the  others  to  the  overseer,  telling  them 
that  if  he  should  die,  they  must  bury  him  immediately, 
wash  out  the  room,  and  burn  some  tar  in  it,  or  they 
would  get  the  cholera  themselves. 

"  We  don't  want  to  touch  'im,"  said  they,  "  but 
we  '11  do  any'ting  dat  young  Mas'r  Frank  tell  us." 

Frank  then  returned  to  Joe ;  and  to  his  surprise 
found  Emily,  with  whom  he  went  to  the  house.  They 
found  Mr.  Le  Rux,  as  Emily  had  left  him,  still  on  the 
floor,  with  the  addition  of  a  pillow  under  his  head.  He 
informed  Frank  that  he  was  very  sick  -indeed,  and  that 
he  wished  him  to  go  to  the  city  for  Dr.  Willis,  as  he 


180  THE   CURSE  ENTAILED. 

was  experienced,  and  had  had  great  success  in  treating 
the  cholera,  adding  that  he  thought  he  should  die. 

Frank  was  not  convinced  that  his  father  had  the 
cholera,  but  he  was  evidently  quite  sick.  With  the 
assistance  of  Mrs.  Le  Rux  and  Emily,  he  was  placed 
in  bed.  Moving  him  again  caused  vomiting,  and  Mr. 
Le  Rux  and  his  wife  were  very  sure  his  end  was  ap- 
proaching. 

Frank  went  for  a  physician.  Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  un- 
able to  render  Emily  any  assistance  in  his  absence. 
She  thought  she  had  the  cholera  coming  on  herself, 
and  was  sure  she  should  die.  It  was  so  dreadful  to 
think  of  dying  such  a  horrid  death.  She  was  sure  that 
they  would  not  have  had  it,  but  for  the  niggers.  Emily 
felt  for  her  a  mingled  sensation  of  disgust  and  pity. 
Mr.  Le  Rux  at  length  fell  asleep,  and  Emily  prevailed 
upon  her  aunt  also  to  retire.  "  I  will,  however,  take  a 
few  drops  of  laudanum  first,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux.  On 
going  to  the  kitchen,  she  found  that  it  had  been  thrown 
out  by  mistake.  She  then  inquired  of  Emily  for  the 
phial,  which  she  directed  her  to  take  from  Bill. 

Emily  led  the  way  to  the  kitchen,  that  she  might  not 
disturb  her  uncle,  and  told  .her  aunt  that  she  had  found 
scarcely  a  teaspoonful  in  the  phial,  and  that,  if  it  had 
contained  more,  Bill  must  have  taken  it. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  replied,  that  there  was  a  full  ounce. 
"  Well,  then,"  said  Emily,  "  it  was  that  which  caused 
his  death." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  going  into  a  long  harangue  about 
the  loss  of  the  man  and  the  laudanum,  but  Emily  cut 
it  short  by  leaving  her  to  herself. 

She  returned  to  her  uncle,  and,  seating  herself,  was 
lost  in  her  own  thoughts  when  he  awoke.     Fixing  his 


CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION.         181 

eyes  upon  her,  he  said :  "  Well,  you  are  a  good  girl, 
after  all,  if  you  were  raised  in  France." 

Emily  made  no  reply.  He  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall.  "  He  is  asleep,"  thought  Emily,  after  an  interval 
of  some  minutes. 

But  Mr.  Le  Rux  said,  "  Well,  it  is  strange,  but  I 
have  not  broken  my  promise  yet ;  and,  if  I  live,  I  never 
will."     Again  he  was  silent. 

"  His  mind  is  wandering,"  thought  Emily.  But  her 
euriosity  was  excited,  and  she  said,  "  What  promise, 
uncle  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  forgot,"  he  replied  ;  "  it  was  to  your  father, 
but  he  need  n't  feel  so  bad.  I  always  loved  Edward, 
and  he  knows  it,  though  —  I  did  n't  expect  to  hear  him 
talk  so." 

He  lay  a  few  minutes,  and  then  said :  "  Well,  I  don't 
know  about  the  borrowed  money.  She  wasn't  to 
blame,  though,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do.  Did  n't 
you  say  you  could  prove  it  Edward  ?  " 

At  this  time,  Frank  entered  with  the  doctor,  and 
Emily  withdrew.  "  Is  my  uncle's  mind  wandering  ?  " 
thought  she,  "  or  is  there  a  mystery  connected  with  my 
father?" 

She  was  absorbed  in  these  reflections  for  something 
like  half  an  hour,  when  Frank  made  his  appearance. 
"  The  doctor  is  not  satisfied,"  said  he,  "in  regard  to  my 
father's  disease,  and  will  remain  with  him  until  morn- 
ing. I  must  go  to  the  quarters.  Retire,  cousin,  and 
seek  rest.  If  my  father  is  worse,  I  fear  it  will  devolve 
upon  you  to  become  his  nurse,  except  at  such  times  as 
I  can  be  with  him.  Poor  Dinah  will  never  be  able  to 
act  in  that  capacity  again.  Well  do  I  remember  her 
faithfulness,  and  kindness  to  us  all.     It  was  her  nature 

16 


182  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

to  be  kind.  She  has  watched  over  and  attended  to  the 
wants  of  my  mother,  as  the  tenderest  mother  would  to 
those  of  a  child ;  and  now,  to  see  her  with  her  tottering 
step,  her  worn-out  frame,  with  her  hands  and  eyes  lifted 
to  heaven,  pleading  that  God  would  take  her  up  —  O, 
Emily !  you  know  not  what  I  feel !  " 

Tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  Frank,  and  trickled  down 
his  cheeks ;  he  wiped  them  away,  and  continued,  "  My 
mother,  if  not  ill,  has  no  mind." 

Emily  was  deeply  moved  at  Frank's  sorrow,  and  she 
wished  to  learn  his  thoughts  from  what  so  affected  him. 
"  I  trust,  cousin,"  said  she,  "  that  you  will  not  expose 
yourself  unnecessarily  at  the  quarters." 

"  No,"  replied  Frank,  as  a  deep  sigh  escaped  him. 
"  No,  cousin,"  repeated  he,  "  I  will  not.  But  my  life 
is  in  the  hands  of  Him  who  gave  it.  I  feel  that  I  am 
ready  to  depart  at  his  bidding.  But,  O  Emily "  —  He 
stopped,  gave  another  sigh,  and  continued :  "  Would 
that  I  could  undo  the  wrongs  committed  by  him  who 
lies  in  yonder  room,  now,  perhaps,  about  to  enter  into 
judgment.  Would  that  I  could  undo  the  wrongs  in- 
flicted by  her  who  bore  me;  who  had  intellect  and 
qualities  of  mind  which  should  have  made  her  happy 
and  good  in  this  world,  and  fitted  her  for  heaven.  O 
Slavery ! "  he  continued,  "  what  hast  thou  done  ?  My 
mother's  soul  is  blighted,  dormant.  Where  is  her  intel- 
lect now?  where  the  noble  qualities  of  womanhood, 
of  maternity  ?  Lost,  and  lost  because  she  would  not 
listen  to  the  '  still  small  voice,'  and  let  Him  who  whis- 
pered to  her  conscience  be  her.  teacher.  It  is  Slavery 
which  has  done  it ;  and  its  tendency  is  down,  down, 
down  !  And  my  ancestors :  think,  O  think,  Emily, 
and  judge,  from  what  has  occurred  within  Ihe  last  few 


CHOLERA  OX  THE  PLANTATION.         183 

days,  what  must  be  the  amount  of  sin  committed,  and 
cruelty  inflicted,  in  this  house,  for  the  last  thirty  years. 
For,  believe  me,  what  you  have  witnessed  is  not  excep- 
tional, but  such  things  are  of  every-day  occurrence. 
My  mind  is  now  carried  back  to  the  days  of  my  child- 
hood, when  I  witnessed  scenes  at  which  brutes  would 
revolt.  You  can  judge,"  continued  he,  "  what  must  be 
the  effect  upon  the  young  mind,  at  a  time  when  it 
should  be  trained  to  truth  and  virtue,  and  all  the  holy 
impulses  of  our  better  nature." 

He  was  silent  a  minute,  and  then  said:  "  Thanks  to 
that  Being  who  has  'brought  me  from  this  horrible  dark- 
ness into  his  marvellous  light.'  I  feel  as  though  I  could 
bear  the  sins  of  the  whole  South,  if,  by  so  doing,  her 
people  could  be  redeemed.  But  I  cannot  tell  you  what 
I  feel  towards  the  North.  She  is  fast  sinning  away 
her  day  of  grace ;  she  is  acting  with  the  beams  of 
God's  light  shining  full  in  her  face ;  she  is  shutting  her 
eyes  that  she  may  not  see ;  and  is  about  to  commit  the 
sin  of  which  Christ  spake  —  namely,  '  to  crucify  the 
Son  of  God  afresh,  and  put  him  to  an  open  shame,'  in 
the  person  of  his  children.  For  her  I  cannot  pray.  I 
tell  you  that  this  unholy  Bill  before  Congress  will  pass ; 
then  they  will  seize  upon  the  panting  fugitive,  who  was 
made  in  the  image  of  his  Maker,  and  for  whom  Christ 
.died,  and  will  send  him  back  into  the  bondage  of  chains 
and  darkness,  away  from  the  light  of  their  own  blessed 
gospel  privileges,  of  which  they  so  much  boast." 

Frank  had  been  so  entirely  absorbed  with  these 
thoughts  that  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  else.  He 
was  overcome  with  the  intensity  of  his  feelings,  and 
hurriedly  left  the  room. 

"  Poor  Dinah !  "  thought  Emily,  as  she  entered  her 


184  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

chamber,  and  saw  the  weary  slave  extended  upon  the 
carpet  asleep.     "  You  will  soon  sleep  your  last  sleep." 

She  thought  of  the  feelings  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Spirit  world,  supposing  they  were  permitted  to 
look  down  from  their  dwelling-place,  and  behold  her. 
She  wondered  if  they  could  weep.  She  knew  they 
could  feel  joy,  for  Christ  had  said,  "  there  was  joy 
in  heaven  over  one  repenting  sinner."  She  wondered 
if  they  could  feel  grief  at  the  sufferings  of  such  as 
Dinah.  "  If  there  be  joy,"  thought  she,  "  over  one 
sinner  that  repenteth,  what  would  be  the  joy  if  this 
whole  nation  would  repent,  and  unloose  the  heavy  chains 
of  slavery !  She  thought  of  the  blessing  this  nation 
would  receive  into  its  own  bosom ;  of  the  peaceful  and 
happy  feelings  of  its  inhabitants  as  they  laid  themselves 
down  to  rest,  with  the  smiles  and  joy  of  an  approving 
conscience,  sustained  by  the  approbation  of  God  and 
the  whole  heavenly  host. 

Emily  could  not  sleep.  She  thought  of  riches, 
splendor,  dress,  and  the  smiles  and  flatteries  of  earth. 
"  What !  O,  what  are  they,"  thought  she,  "  when  pur- 
chased at  such  a  price — at  the  price  of  what  I  now 
see  before  me  :  a  being,  like  myself,  thus  made  miser- 
able by  being  robbed  of  what  God  gave  her,  'life, 
liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  her  own  happiness  ? '  Yes," 
thought  she,  "  these  hands  were  given  me  for  my  own 
use." 

Involuntarily  her  eye  rested  upon  the  form  of  Dinah. 
Emily  had  become  nervous.  She  arose,  drew  her  chair 
near  to  where  Dinah  was  extended  upon  the  carpet, 
and  gazed  upon  her  hands.  On  one  was  the  mark  of  a 
hot  iron,  which  Dinah  said  had  been  applied  in  her 
childhood,  by  her  young  mistress,  because  she  had  ac- 


«  CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION.         185 

cidentally  spilled  some  water  upon  her  white  satin 
dress.  Those  hands  were  now,  as  Dinah  had  told  her, 
all  drawn  up.  One  joint  was  swollen,  another  bent 
almost  double ;  here  was  a  callous,  and  there  one  finger 
was  missing. 

"  Too  bad!"  said  Emily,  aloud ;  and,  before  she  was 
aware  of  it,  the  tears  were  on  her  cheeks.  She  looked 
upon  her  own  hands.  "  Thank  Heaven,"  said  she,  "  it 
was  not  for  me  you  toiled  thus." 

Emily  thought  of  what  Frank  had  said,  in  regard  to 
Dinah's  kindness  to  her  aunt,  and  of  the  blow  which 
she  had  seen  her  aunt  give  her,  the  evening  before. 

"  And  yet  Dinah  is  a  Christian,"  thought  Emily  j 
"  and  what  will  her  Saviour  say  to  my  aunt,  in  the 
Judgment,  as  to  her  treatment  of  him  in  the  person  of 
his  child  ?     Can  I  pray  for  my  aunt  ?  "  thought  she. 

A  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  her,  which  she  had 
never  known  before,  as  she  endeavored  to  lift  up  her 
heart  to  God  in  her  aunt's  behalf.  In  spite  of  all  her 
efforts  to  pray,  Dinah  was  before  her.  All,  all  was 
dark  between  herself  and  Him  with  whom  she  was 
wont  to  commune.  She  uttered  a  deep  groan.  Dinah 
awoke,  and  attempted  to  turn  herself,  but  failed.  "  Oh 
marcy !  Miss  Em'ly,"  said  she,  "  I 's  so  stiff  an'  sore, 
now,  all  ober,I  jest  b'leves  I  '11  neber  git  up  again.  Oh 
marcy!  my  back  aches  dreffly,"  and  she  again  at- 
tempted to  turn  herself,  but  again  failed. 

By  Emily's  assistance,  Dinah  at  length  succeeded  in 
rising  sufficiently  to  sit  up.  "  Now,"  said  Emily,  "you 
must  get  upon  my  bed.  I  cannot  sleep,  and  I  will  rest 
in  the  chair." 

Dinah  was  about  making   some  reply,  but   Emily 

16* 


18G  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

said,  "  Not  a  word,  Dinah ;"  and,  with  some  difficulty, 
succeeded  in  raising  her,  and  assisting  her  to  the  bed. 
As  Frank  approached  the  slave  quarters,  he  heard 
sounds  of  merriment  among  the  negroes.  He  listened. 
They  were  in  the  open  air,  singing : 

"  Hang  up  de  shobcl  and  de  hoe, 
Take  down  the  fiddle  and  de  bow : 
De  oberseer  's  gone  to  de  oberseer's  rest  — 
He  is  gone  where  dey  all  got  to  go." 

One  of  them  then  added  : 

"  De  c'ol'ra  cany  him  off,  'caze  he  's  so  bad  — 
He  be  gone  to  de  debel,  an'  de  niggers  all  glad." 

They  then  joined  hands,  and  danced  round  and 
round.  "When  the  ring  was  broken,  some  continued 
the  shuffle,  slapping  their  hands,  while  some  dropped 
upon  the  ground,  in  great  glee,  and  others  rolled  over 
and  over,  in  laughter. 

"  "Well,"  thought  Frank,  "  the  overseer  must  be  dead, 
or  there  would  not  be  all  this  rejoicing  among  the  slaves." 
As  he  approached  the  spot  he  was  seen,  for  instantly  all 
was  still,  and  the  slaves  moved  demurely  toward  the 
cabins. 

But  there  was  a  grin  of  satisfaction  upon  Jim's  face, 
which  he  could  not  well  conceal,  as  he  looked  up  to  reply 
to  Frank's  question,  whether  "  the  overseer  was  dead  ?  " 

"  Oh!  yes,  mas'r,  him  die  purty  soon  arter  we  git 
dar,"  replied  Jim ;  "  an'  we  do  jest  as  mas'r  say  —  we 
bury  'im  rite  off,  an'  burn  de  tar  rite  on  'im,  so  'im 
keep  de  c'ol'ra  all  to  himself,  an'  not  gib  it  to  us." 

"  Where  did  you  bury  him  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Oh,  de  oberseer  hab  de  hole  dug  for  July.  Well, 
we  put  'im  rite  in  dar,"  said  Jim,  with  a  broad  grin. 


CHOLERA  ON  THE  PLANTATION.         187 

"But  I  am  afraid  you  did  not  bury  him  deep 
enough,"  said  Frank. 

"  O  yes !  mas'r,"  replied  Jim  ;  "  we  digged  de  hole 
two  feet  furder,  an'  den  we  gets  some  skeer'd,  an'  we 
tumble  'im  rite  in,  an'  threw  in  Ms  whip  wid  'im,  an' 
den  we  cober  'im  up  quick  's  eber  we  can." 

"  Well,  what  scared  you  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  Oh !  we  t'inks  we  hear  de  debil  comin'  wid  de  big 
tongs  to  take  'im  off.  Someting  went  ding,  ding,  all 
de  time,  an'  dat  it  surely  did,  'kase  we  all  hear'n  it." 

"  And  why  did  you  bury  his  whip  with  him  ? "  asked 
Frank. 

"  Oh !  we  t'inks,"  replied  Jim,  grinning,  "  dat  de 
debil  may  p'raps  want  'im  for  oberseer  down  dar ;  an' 
we  t'inks  de  whip  '11  give  us  all  de  c'ol'ra,  if  we  leaves 
it  lay  in'  roun'." 

Here  Jim  betrayed  himself,  for  he  lost  his  gravity, 
and  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter,  which  immediately 
became  general  with  the  whole  group. 

Frank  then  told  them  how  Bill  was  afraid  of  the 
cholera,  and  had  drank  so  much  laudanum  that  it  killed 
him ;  and  Frank  bade  them  bury  him  as  decently  as 
they  could,  telling  Dick  also  to  manage  at  the  quarters, 
and  wash  and  cleanse  up  everything. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

PASSAGE    OF    THE  FUGITIVE    BILL    AND    THE    RESULT. 

We  find  Edward  pursuing  his  studies  as  usual  at 
college ;  and  leave  him  to  inquire  after  Mrs.  Le  Clare. 
We  find  her  still  dealing  justly,  and  loving  mercy. 
There,  too,  we  find  Ella  administering  kindness  to  Mrs. 
Le  Clare.  She  is  the  same  kind,  affectionate  girl  as 
when  we  last  saw  her.  She  likes  to  call  when  Mrs. 
Le  Clare  gets  u  letter  from  Edward,  and  inquire  how 
he  is;  and,  when  Mrs.  Le  Clare  gives  her  the  letter  to 
read,  she  blushes,  thanks  her,  and  looks  pleased. 

Mr.  Brownson  is  the  same,  except  that  it  seems  rather 
more  difficult  of  late  for  him  to  find  texts  of  Scripture 
sufficiently  strong  to  satisfy  others  that  slavery  is  right. 
People  don't  like  the  Fugitive  Bill  which  is  now  before 
Congress. 

It  was  mail  day,  and  Richard  brought  home  the 
Liberator. 

Mrs.  Wise  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Le  Clare  when 
Richard  entered  and  handed  her  the  paper.  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  arose,  and  retired  to  her  own  room.  In  a  short 
time  Mrs.  Wise  was  startled  by  a  deep  groan,  and 
instantly  a  heavy  fall.  Entering  Mrs.  Le  Clare's  room, 
she  found  her  lying  insensible  upon  the  floor. 

She  dispatched  Richard  for  Dr.  Freeman.  In  the 
mean  time  Mrs.  Wise  placed  a  pillow  under  Mrs.  Le 

088) 


DEATH    OF   MRS.    LE  CLARE.  189 

Clare's  head,  and  used  such  restoratives  as  had  before 
been  resorted  to  ;  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

Dr.  Freeman  entered.  Alas!  Mrs.  Le*  Clare  was 
dead.  Dr.  Freeman  remained  with  Mrs.  Wise,  while 
Richard  drove  his  horse  for  Ella  and  another  friend  of 
Mrs.  Le  Clare's.  Ella  was  deeply  grieved  at  this  sud- 
den bereavement,  and  all  present  participated  in  her 
feelings. 

Dr.  Freeman  took  Mrs.  Wise  aside,  and  requested 
that  the  body  be  removed  to  another  apartment,  and  that 
the  room  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare  be  closed  until  the  return 
of  Edward.  "  It  is  my  wish,"  said  he,  "  that  not  even  a 
paper  or  a  chair  be  moved  until  after  Edward  has  seen 
it."     This  was  complied  with. 

Dr.  Freeman  assisted  in  removing  the  body,  and  then 
hastened  to  inform  Edward,  by  telegraph,  of  his  sad 
bereavement. 

There  was  a  deep  feeling  in  C when  it  was 

known  that  Mrs.  Le  Clare  was  dead.     She  had  been 
almost  universally  beloved. 

To  the  oft-repeated  inquiry  made  of  Dr.  Freeman 
as  to  the  cause  of  her  death,  his  answer  was :  "  I  think 
she  died  of  her  old  complaint.  I  have  long  suspected 
disease  of  the  heart.  She  has  before  swooned,  but  this 
attack  proved  fatal." 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  after  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  that  Ella,  who  had  remained 
|with  Mrs.  Wise,  and  who  first  heard  a  footstep  and  a 
•  rap,  •  opened  the  door  to  Edward  Le  Clare ;  and  he 
entered  again  his  home.  As  he  extended  his  hand  to 
Ella,  she  was  overcome  with  her  emotions,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

There  were  no  tears  on  that  manly  face,  but  there  was 


190  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

an  expression  of  sorrow  so  deep  —  it  was  that  grief 
which  brings  no  tears  to  its  relief. 

Dr.  Freeman  soon  entered,  and  Ella  withdrew  to 
attend  to  some  duties.  In  about  half  an  hour  the 
Doctor  inquired  for  the  key  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare's  room ; 
he  handed  it  to  Edward,  and  departed,  promising  to 
call  again  in  an  hour. 

Edward  was  alone.  He  walked  the  room  a  few 
minutes ;  then,  slowly  turning  the  key  of  his  mother's 
room,  he  entered,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  He 
was  alone  in  the  sanctuary  of  her  whom  he  was  to 
meet  no  more  in  this  world.  Here  it  was  that  he  had 
last  parted  with  his  dear  mother  —  here  it  was  that  that 
mother  had  taught  him  to  pray  —  here  it  was  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  had  descended,  and  brought  him  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  truth.  It  was  here  that  he  had  received  so 
many  holy  admonitions  ;  but  she  who  had  given  them 
was  gone.  In  one  minute,  as  he  stood  ruminating,  all 
the  scenes  of  his  past  life  came  up  before  him,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  living  them  over  again.  Not  a  word,  not 
a  look  of  hi3  mother  escaped  him.  But  at  this  instant, 
a  calmness  came  over  him.  His  mind  was  suddenly 
lifted  up  from  earth,  and  he  seemed  to  behold  his 
mother,  as  an  angel  in  heaven,  and  to  see  her  smile 
upon  him ;  but  that  which  he  had  so  often  gazed  upon, 
and  wondered  at,  it  was  gone,  —  there  was  radiance  in 
that  look,  but  nought  of  sorrow,  nought  of  anxiety 
was  there.  A  cloud  seemed  lifted  from  his  spirit,  and 
peace  fdled  his  heart.  "  Yes,  mother,"  he  said,  aloud, 
"  I  am  here."  As  he  spoke,  he  approached  the  table 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  letter  which  he  had  last 
written  to  her.  He  opened  it,  and  read  upon  the 
margin :    "  This  has  comforted  me,  my  son."     Upon 


DEATH    OF    MRS.    LE  CLARE.  191 

turning  it,  a  slip  of  paper  fell  to  the  floor.  He  took  it 
up  and  read :  "  I  pen  this  before  opening  the  Liberator. 
Something  tells  me  we  may  not  meet  again  in  this 
world  —  if  so,  farewell."  His  eyes  then  turned  to  the 
paper.  It  was  folded  in  quarto  form,  and  lay  upon  the 
table,  as  if  his  mother  had  placed  her  elbow  upon  it, 
and  her  head  upon  her  hand  to  read.  Without  moving 
it,  Edward  bent  forward,  and  read,  "  The  Fugitive  Bill 
has  passed  both  Houses,  and  become  a  law."  All  was 
at  once  explained  to  Edward. 

"  And  ye  are  murderers,"  he  said,  "  ye  men  of  the 
nation,  ye  men  of  blood, — for  by  your  fruits  do  I 
judge  you." 

All  his  mother's  suffering  and  sensitiveness  upon  the 
subject  of  the  Bill  came  up  before  him.  "  Yes,"  he 
continued,  while  he  paced  the  room  hurriedly ;  "  ye  men 
of  the  North,  who  have  apostatized  from  the  doctrines 
of  your  fathers  —  ye  men  at  Washington  —  ye  pro- 
slavery  preachers,  and  professing  Christians  —  adjourn 
for  a  while,  and  come  into  this  sanctuary,  and  let  my 
mother's  spirit  breathe  into  your  souls  the  truth,  that  ye 
are  murderers.  Come,  listen  to  me,  as  those  of  old  did 
to  Paul;  and  let  me  tell  you  "  Of  truth,  of  righteous- 
ness, and  of  a  judgment  to  come."  Let  me  tell  you 
that  you  have  '  crucified  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  and 
put  him  to  an  open  shame,'  in  the  person  of  his  chil- 
dren, whom  you  have  now  nailed  to  the  cross  of  Slavery. 
There  they  will  suffer  and  expire,  while  you  will  give 
them  gall  and  vinegar  to  drink.  But  it  will  return 
upon  you,  'and  your  days  shall  be  shortened.'  But 
they  shall  rise  again.  Thou  hast  entombed  their  souls 
in  darkness.,  but  God  will  send  his  ministering  spirits, 
and  they  will  roll  away  the  stone  from  the  sepulchre  of 


102  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

their  hearts,  and  they  shall  rise  in  the  strength  of  their 
manhood,  and  those  who  have  been  crucified  shall  stand 
in  judgment  against  you.  But  the  nation  is  accursed, 
and  will  sink  down,  down,  down  to  dissolution,  because 
it  has  forsaken  its  first  love  for  which  our  fathers 
plan  ted  their  feet  upon  Plymouth  Rock  —  Freedom.  O  h, 
that  our  young  sons  and  daughters  would  arise  and 
shake  themselves,  before  they  are  left  in  desolation, 
and  '  go  mourning  all  the  day  long,  for  the  darkness 
which  has  come  upon  them.' " 

Edward  ceased  speaking,  and,  seating  himself,  re- 
mained for  a  few  minutes  absorbed  in  his  own  reflec- 
tions. But  he  was  reminded  of  the  flight  of  time 
since  he  had  entered  the  room,  by  hearing  his  name 
pronounced  by  Ella,  who  had  come  to  inform  him  that 
Dr.  Freeman  was  in  waiting  for  him. 

The  doctor  was  much  gratified  at  the  calmness  he 
saw  resting  upon  the  countenance  of  Edward,  and 
together  they  proceeded  to  the  room  where  lay  the 
corpse.  There  was  a  smile  upon  the  features.  Ed- 
ward placed  his  hand  upon  the  marble  forehead,  took 
hold  of  the  cold  fingers,  stooped  and  kissed  the  rigid 
lips,  but  he  did  not  weep.     He  was  still  calm. 

"  You  were  right,  doctor,"  said  he ;  "  it  was  well  that 
I  went  to  my  mother's  room  first  —  I  have  communed 
with  her  spirit,  and  feel  that  she  is  not  lost  to  me,  but 
will  be  my  guardian  Spirit,  and  that  'the  Lord  will 
give  her  charge  concerning  me,  that  I  faint  not  by  the 
way.' "  Again  he  placed  his  hand  upon  her  fore- 
head, and  said,  "  It  is  well;  her  sufferings  are  over." 

Edward's  heart  became  sad  at  the  thought  that  he 
could  never  know  the  cause  of  his  mothers  grief.  His 
mind  was  instantly  drawn  towards  the  room,  which  lie 


DEATH   OP  MRS.   LE  CLARE.  193 

now  felt  to  be  a  sanctuary.  He  entered  it,  and  seated 
himself  in  the  easy  chair,  which  was  constructed  with  a 
small  writing  desk  upon  the  right  side.  This  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  did  not  use,  except  when  ill,  or  quite  fatigued. 
Lost  in  thought,  he  unconsciously  opened  a  small 
drawer  attached  to  the  desk,  when  he  beheld  a  paper 
neatly  folded. 

It  was  his  mother's  writing,  and  seemed  to  have 
been  penned  immediately  after  returning  from  a  fune- 
ral. It  ran  thus :  "  I  wish  to  be  laid  calmly  and  peace- 
fully in  my  last  resting-place,  when  my  spirit  has  de- 
parted from  my  body.  I  shall  then  have  entered  where 
no  comments  from  man  can  do  me  good,  and  I  think 
that  one's  own  reflections,  at  the  burial  of  their  friends, 
are  better  than  any  eulogies  that  can  be  offered.  Mr 
Brownson  spoke  to  day  of  the  '  cold  and  dreary  grave.' 
To  me,  the  grave  does  not  seem  'cold  and  dreary;'  but 
only  the  entrance  to  a  far  brighter  and  happier  exist- 
ence. But  the  pomp  and  show  at  funerals  is  to  me 
very  painful. 

"  Edward,  when  I  die,  lay  me  out  plainly ;  put  me 
in  the  grave  cheerfully,  some  pleasant  mom  or  eve,  with 
no  one  to  speak  of  me  but  the  '  still  small  voice '  which 
will  whisper  truth  and  immortality.  And  then,  Ed- 
ward, do  not  weep.  Ella,  I  know  you  love  me,  and 
you  are  very  dear  to  me.  Edward  is  all  I  have  in  this 
world." 

Edward  was  deeply  moved.  "  It  shall  be  done,"  said 
he.  Taking  the  paper,  he  sought  Mrs.  Wise  and  Ella, 
and  told  them  he  desired  that  the  request  therein  con- 
tained might  be  complied  with. 

"  You  will  now,  I  trust,  retire,"  said  Mrs.  Wise  ;  "and 

17 


194  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

as  the  corpse  is  in  your  room,  you  will  find  Richard's 
room  prepared  for  you." 

Taldng  a  light,  however,  Edward  proceeded  to  his 
own  room,  looked  once  more  upon  the  face  of  his  dear 
mother,  threw  himself  upon  his  own  bed,  and  was  soon 
in  a  quiet  and  peaceful  slumber. 

Mr.  Brownson  had  been  informed  of  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Le  Clare,  and  had.  been  expecting  to  preach  the 
funeral  sermon.  But  no  such  request  came.  He  was 
greatly  surprised,  therefore,  when  he  saw  the  small  pro- 
cession pass  early  the  next  morning  after  Edward's  re- 
turn. Many  of  the  villagers  joined  it,  however,  and  at 
the  grave  was  shed  many  a  sympathizing  tear.  But 
Edward  did  not  weep. 

"  This  is  only  the  fruits  of  Infidelity,"  said  Mr. 
Brownson  to  his  wife ;  "  and  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
I  ought  to  preach  a  sermon  upon  it." 

At  the  request  of  Edward,  Ella  returned  with  him 
and  Mrs.  Wise  from  the  funeral.  In  the  afternoon 
Edward  again  sought  his  mother's  apartment,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  examine  the  remaining  papers  in  the  drawer 
from  which  he  had  taken  one  the  evening  previous. 
There  were  several,  which  he  took  in  order.  The  first 
read  as  folio 

"  Oh!  how  little  does  my  Edward  know  of  my  feelings, 
or  that  it  is  for  him  I  fear.  Oh!  would  that  I  dared  to 
open  my  whole  soul  to  him ;  but  I  fear  to  do  if. 

"  Ella,  dear,  good  girl,  she  is  next  in  my  heart  to  him. 

If  it  should  be  the  will  of  God  that  they  should ; 

but  oil!  it  would  be  sin  for  me  to  write  it.  It  might 
perhaps  ere  long  cause  her  to  become  a  sharer  in  my 
sufferings.  Oh,  what  will  be  the  agony  of  my  soul,  if 
this  infamous  ;  Fugitive  Bill*  longress!     What 


DEATH   OF  MRS.   LE  CLARE.  195 

calamities  it  might  bring  to  our  hearts.  And  yet,  me- 
thinks,  God  will  interfere  in  our  behalf,  and  that  this 
darkness  will  flee  away." 

In  another  place,  on  the  same  sheet,  was  the  follow- 
ing: 

"  I  am  becoming  more  attached  to  Ella,  each  visit 
she  makes  me.  She  reads  to  me  so  like  Edward,  and 
tries  to  comfort  me.     May  she  ever  be  happy." 

On  another  sheet  was  the  following,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  written  about  the  time  of  Edward's  last 
visit  at  home. 

"  O  God,  give  me  strength  !  It  is  even  as  I  had 
feared.  Another  —  Oh,  the  broken  vows! — who 
could  have  believed  ?  Had  he  but  left  me  Edith,  me- 
thinks  I  could  have  borne  it.  And  she  still  lives.  What, 
tear  her  from  me — my  first-born,  whom  I  so  loved — to 
place  her  with  another  ?     But  I  must  not  write  thus. 

Perhaps .     Oh,  would  that  I  could  open  my  heart 

to  Edward,  and  send  him  to  search  out,  to  find,  and  to 
tell  her  it  is  /who  claim  her.  But  no,  it  is  madness  to 
think  of  it.  He  might  learn  all,  and  be  forever  un- 
happy. He  might  be  rash.  Oh  no,  it  is  better  that  I 
should  suffer  alone,  than  that  he  should  ever  know 
aught  but  what  I  have  been  forced  to  tell  him.  And 
yet,  I  know  what  must  be  his  feelings.  Alas !  there  is 
safety  only  in  silence;    safety,  did  I  say?      I  know 

not ."     Here  it  was  cut  short.     It  seemed  that  his 

mother  had  an  impulse  of  feeling  to  destroy  it,  for  it 
had  evidently  been  touched  to  a  candle,  and  a  part 
burned,  then  suddenly  extinguished  by  crumpling  it  in 
the  hand. 

"  And  am  I  never  to  know  more  of  my  father,  and 
of  Edith,  and  they  still  living  ?    Why,  Oh,  why  did  she 


196  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

not  tell  me  ?  Why  did  she  not  bid  me  seek  them  ? 
'  Safety :'  what  did  she  mean  ?  Safety  for  me  ?  Oh, 
mystery !  "  and  he  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  throbbing 
heart,  while  he  paced  the  room  to  and  fro. 

Every  other  feeling  was  at  length  lost  in  the  mind  of 
Edward  except  pity  for  what  his  mother  had  suffered. 
"And  it  was  the  unholy  thing  of  Slavery,  connected 
with  all  this,  that  weighed  her  down,"  thought  he, 
"  and  the  Fugitive  Bill  had  broken  her  heart.  And 
why  all  this  ?  Oh !  why  did  you  not  tell  me,  my 
mother  ?  " ,  said  Edward,  aloud.  Instantly  the  words 
which  his  mother  had  spoken  before  sounded  in  his 
ears,  as  if  spoken  aloud :  "  Unless  God  in  his  mercy 
interfere,"  &c. 

Edward  dropped  upon  his  knees  and  poured  out  his 
soul  to  God.  He  arose  calm.  "  I  will  search  for  more 
of  my  mother's  papers,"  thought  he,  "  for  thus  my  mind 
is  led.  But  it  is  late,  and  I  will  first  seek  Ella.  Per- 
haps she  is  lonely."  He  had  himself  invited  her  to  the 
house,  and  she  had  been  kind  enough  to  come. 

As  he  was  about  to  pass  1  he  outer  door,  he  saw  the 
carriage  of  Mr.  Erskine  turning  towards  the  house.  It 
was  sent  for  Ella,  with  the  request  that  Edward  would 
ride  over,  and  spend  the  evening.  He  hesitated,  as  his 
mind  reverted  to  the  papers ;  but,  at  the  request  of  Mrs. 
Wise,  who  thought  it  would  be  better  for  him,  accom- 
panied with  a  "  Yes,  Edward,  it  will  do  you  good,  and 
my  father  wishes  to  see  you,"  from  Ella,  he  consented. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

A    SHORT    DISCUSSION. ATTEMPT     TO    SAVE    THE    UNION. 

On  entering  the  house,  they  were  surprised  to  find 
George  Brownson  quietly  conversing  with  Mr.  Erskine. 
He  arose  as  they  entered,  however,  and  greeted  Ella 
with  much  cordiality,  but  maintained  a  haughty  reserve 
toward  Edward  Le  Clare.  This  did  not  in  the  least 
disturb  Edward,  but  wounded  Ella. 

"  What  a  cold,  selfish  pretender  George  is,"  said  she 
to  her  father,  as  he  stepped  into  the  kitchen  to  procure 
some  wood  to  replenish  the  fire,  whither  she  followed 
him  for  the  purpose  of  giving  vent  to  her  feelings. 
"  He  has  not  even  the  sympathy  of  a  savage,  to  be 
so  cold  to  Edward  in  his  sorrows." 

"  I  fear  he  has  not  the  honor  of  a  savage,"  replied 
Mr.  Erskine.  "  He  would,  I  think,  like  to  use  the 
tomahawk  and  scalping-knife  on  Edward,  without  his 
having  ever  offended  him ;  whereas  a  savage  seeks  only 
revenge  for  injury  done  him." 

"George  Brownson  will  never  take  the  scalp  of 
Edward  Le  Clare  as  a  trophy,"  said  Ella. 

"  He  may  perhaps  try  a  few  arrows  upon  him,  as 
formerly,"  remarked  Mr.  Erskine  ;  "but  Ella  will  ward 
them  off,  as  usual." 

Ella  blushed  a  little,  but  said,  "  Yes,  I  will  cast  them 
back  upon  himself,  where  ihey  will  stick  fast." 

"  But  you  must  not  aim  at  his  heart,  child,"  said  her 
father,  "  for  they  may  prove  dangerous." 

17*  (187) 


198  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Hearts  which  are  devoid  of  sympathy  and  goodness 
pre  not  easily  injured,  father,"  said  Ella,  "  and  George 
Brownson  has  neither." 

Edward  was  abstracted;  his  thoughts  rested  else- 
where. George  at  length  introduced  the  subject  of  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law.  "  He  was  in  favor,"  he  said,  "  of 
every  person's  standing  firm  against  all  fanaticism, 
which  would  now,  he  thought,  easily  be  put  down. 
The  Union  had  been  in  great  danger,  the  Constitution 
and  Government  must  be  supported.  They  had  been 
trampled  upon.  The  South  felt  her  wrongs,  and  hef 
grievances  must  be  redressed.  Our  nation's  champions 
had  done  their  duty  now,  and  he  hoped  every  lover 
of  liberty  would  stand  firm,  and  do  their  bidding." 

A  deep  groan  came  from  Edward,  as  he  arose  to  his 
feet,  and  walked  the  room,  occasionally  passing  his 
hand  across  his  brow.  George  continued :  "  He  was 
grieved  that  so  many  had  fallen.  Some  had  promised 
fair  to  run  a  glorious  career  in  the  service  of  their 
country,  but  had  been  drawn  aside.  But  the  nation 
would  still  have  her  true  men." 

Edward  felt  that  George  meant  to  be  personal,  but 
he  did  not  deign  a  reply.  Another  groan  came  from 
him,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

Ella  had  thought  that  Edward  himself  would  soon 
discharge  his  artillery  at  George  with  a  deadly  aim. 
But  he  did  not  even  speak,  and  then  that  groan!  —  she 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  Rising  indignantly,  she  said : 
"  And  is  it  to  Southern  slaveholders,  who  cannot  bring 
their  dogs  North,  and  therefore  call  upon  men  to  fill 
their  places,  that  we  are  indebted  for  this  visit,  Mr. 
Brownson  ?  Is  there  a  fugitive  about  here  to  be  taken, 
sir?     If  so,  are  you  anxious  to  add   laurels  to  your 


THE   JUGITIVE3.  199 

already  fair  fame  ?  Is  it  for  that  we  see  you  here  to- 
night? Perhaps,  sir,  you  are  aware  that  fugitives 
sometimes  pass  this  way,  and  are  sheltered  beneath  the 
roof  of  Mr.  Erskine.  Are  you  employed  as  a  spy  ?  If 
so,  I  beg  leave  to  inform  you  that  so  many  of  the  in- 
habitants of  C ,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,— - in 

particular  my  humble  self, — have  lost  so  much  of  their 
'  honor '  that  it  will  prove  an  entire  failure  for  you  to 
seek  glory  and  honor  upon  this  track.  Indeed,  sir, 
there  is .  scarcely  anything  of  '  honor '  to  be  found  in 
this  town,  except  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Brownson,  and 
some  half-dozen  of  his  tools."  Ella  had  spoken  with 
sarcastic  boldness ;  she  had  thrown  her  arrows,  and  they 
had  struck. 

With  all  the  hauteur  that  George  Brownson  could 
command,  he  felt  as  if  suddenly  transfixed  to  his  chair. 
He  was  somewhat  relieved,  however,  for,  at  this  instant, 
Lucy  opened  the  door,  and,  beckoning  to  Ella,  requested 
her  to  inform  her  father,  that  James  had  returned  from 

S ,  and,  as   the  horses   were  tired,  he  hoped  he 

would  not  keep  him  waiting. 

Mr.  Erskine  heard  the  wheels  of  the  wagon  before  he 
had  time  to  reach  the  yard.  As  he  entered,  James  put 
his  finger  to  his  lips,  and  pointed  to  the  wagon,  saying, 
in  a  whisper,  "  Is  George  Brownson  in  town?" 

Mr.  Erskine  nodded  in  the  affirmative,  and  pointed 
to  the  house.  The  countenance  of  James  assumed  a 
look  of  anger.  He  lifted  his  whip  in  his  hand,  and 
gave  it  a  smart  crack,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  'd  like  to 
lay  it  about  him." 

"  It 's  a  woman  and  her  babe,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone ; 
"  and  we  are  watched.  I  am  afraid  the  baby  will  cry. 
You  must  get  George  Brownson  away." 


200  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Mr.  Erskine  led  the  way  to  the  house,  and  motioned 
James  to  follow.  They  both  entered  by  the  kitchen 
door,  and  Mr.  Erskine  proceeded  to  the  parlor,  saying, 
as  he  opened  the  outer  door,  which  looked  toward  the 
west,  "  Well,  James  was  right  in  driving  into  the  barn ; 
it  does  look  like  rain,  and  it  is  too  late  to  unload  to- 
night." 

Edward  was  sitting  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  George, 
with  a  look  of  melancholy  and  pity. 

At  this  time  George  rose  to  his  feet ;  and,  without 
looking  at  either  Edward  or  Ella,  made  a  very  awkward 
and  unceremonious  exit. 

"  Poor  man  ! "  thought  Edward ;  "  with  all  my  griefs, 
I  am  thankful  that  I  do  not  stand  in  your  place." 

As  George  closed  the  door,  Mr.  Erskine  stepped  into 
the  kitchen,  and  spoke  to  James,  who  immediately  dis- 
appeared out  of  the  back  door. 

"  You  have  thrown  your  arrows  where  they  stick 
fast,  indeed,  Ella,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  on  his  return  to 
the  parlor.  "  We  have  a  poor  fugitive  woman  and 
child  in  the  barn,  under  the  bags  and  straw ;  and,  if 
I  can  judge  from  James'  looks  and  actions,  George 
Brownson  came  home  unexpectedly  (for  his  father  told 
me  he  did  not  expect  him  home  these  three  weeks), 
hoping  to  add  to  his  glory  and  honor  by  aiding  the 
slave-catchers  who  are  on  their  track." 

Ella  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  A  woman  and  child,  did 
you  say,  father  ?  " 

At  this  moment  James  entered  the  parlor,  quite 
unceremoniously,  and  said :  "  Well,  I  was  right.  I  fol- 
lowed George  Brownson,  and  was  within  a  short  dis- 
tance of  him,  when  he  met  the  fellow  who  is  after 
the  runaways,  and  I  heard  all  their  conversation.     But 


THE   FUGITIVES.  201 

the  woman  must  be  suffering  there  in  the  wagon, 
and,  if  the  child  should  cry,  it  would  all  be  let  out. 
She  must  come  to  the  house,  if  I  bring  her  in  my  hat." 

Ella  had  stood  lost  in  thought ;  but,  as  James  finished 
speaking,  she  stepped  across  the  floor  to  where  her 
father  stood,  who  seemed  much  perplexed,  and  said 
quietly,  "  I  sent  my  arrows  at  random,  father,  but  they 
hit  the  mark.  1  can  now  do  even  better  than  that. 
Will  you  '  trust  a  woman's  wit'  this  time  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  submit  the  case  to  you,"  replied  Mr. 
Erskine,  "  for  I  acknowledge  that  I  can  see  no  way  but 
to  call  all  good  abolitionists  together,  and  fight  it  out 
with  the  rascals." 

"  Come  with  me,  James,"  said  Ella;  and  instantly  she 
led  the  way  to  the  barn. 

James  turned  the  key,  swung  open  the  door,  and 
they  entered.  Stepping  up  to  the  wagon,  Ella  said 
aloud,  "  Come,  poor  woman ;  you  will  doubtless  evade 
your  pursuers." 

Turning  to  James,  she  put  her  finger  to  her  lips. 
Then,  in  her  usual  tone,  she  bade  him  assist  the  woman 
from  the  wagon. 

It  was  only  because  James  had  so  many  proofs  of 
Ella's  good  sense,  that  he  had  any  faith  in  her  now. 
"  If  she  fails,"  thought  he,  "  in  carrying  out  a  seeming 
impossibility,  it  will  be  the  first  time." 

He  came  forward,  and,  removing  some  straw  and 
bags  of  meal,  the  woman  and  child  were  soon  extri- 
cated from  their  uncomfortable  position. 

Ella  could  not  help  noticing  James'  cunning,  in  ar- 
ranging the  bags  so  as  to  form  a  kind  of  room,  and 
still  leave  plenty  of  breathing-holes,  as  well  as  elude 
suspicion. 


202  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Take  courage,  good  woman,"  said  Ella,  as  she  led 
the  way  to  the  house. 

Immediately  on  entering,  she  led  the  woman  to  her 
own  room ;  and,  closing  the  door,  she  proceeded  to  take 
off  her  clothing,  which  was  very  scanty,  and  then  placed 
her  in  bed.  She  took  from  a  closet  some  garments  of 
her  own,  and,  laying  them  upon  the  bedstead,  told  her 
to  put  them  on  when  she  arose.  After  instructing 
Laura  how  to  attend  to  the  wants  of  the  fugitive,  she 
took  from  a  nail  a  phial,  containing  an  anodyne, 
dropped  some  of  it  into  a  cup  of  milk,  and  fed  it  to 
the  child,  which  was  evidently  hungry,  for  it  swallowed 
it  eagerly.  She  then  proceeded  to  array  herself  in  the 
clothes  of  the  fugitive ;  after  which  she  rolled  up  a 
small  quilt,  in  the  form  of  a  child,  and  over  it  wrapped 
the  blanket  that  had  served  for  a  covering  for  the  fugi- 
tive's child.  There  was  a  sort  of  bonnet  and  cloak, 
which  had  been  worn  by  the  fugitive,  and  with  these 
she  completed  her  disguise. 

Thus  equipped  she  entered  the  parlor,  and  seated  her- 
self by  the  fire,  putting  on  the  appearance  of  one  very 
cold,  weak  and  exhausted. 

It  was  not  until  she  arose,  and  addressed  Edward, 
saying, "  Will  you  take  care  of  this  fugitive  ? "  that 
they  were  aware  of  the  disguise.  ♦ 

Mr.  Erskine  comprehended  in  an  instant ;  and,  turn- 
ing to  James,  bade  him  bring  round  the  carriage  to 
convey  Edward  home. 

Ella  stepped  into  the  fugitives'  room,  and  returned 
with  her  little  charge,  at  the  same  time  hushing  it,  as 
though  fearful  it  would  awake. 

With  her  head  bowed  down,  our  fugitive  heroine 
was  placed  in  an  open  wagon  by  the  side  of  Edward 


THE   FUGITIVES.  203 

Le  Clare;  but,  before  they  drove  from  the  door,  Mr. 
Erskine  received  many  thanks,  and  "  Lord  bless  yous," 
from  the  fugitive. 

As  they  departed,  James  went  out  again  to  recon- 
noitre. Laura  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding 
the  woman  resting  very  comfortably,  and  the  child 
fast  asleep.  In  a  short  time,  James  returned,  and  in- 
formed Mr.  Erskine  that  the  slave-catchers  were  in  pur- 
suit of  the  wagon,  and  that  now  was  their  time. 
He  would  go  to  the  place  appointed,  and  notify  the 
men  from  whom  he  had  taken  the  woman,  and  they 
would  soon   come  round  to    the  back  door  for  her. 

"  You  must  have  her  ready,"  said  James,  for  "  they 
will  soon  be  back." 

"  If  we  can  get  her  on  to  Nathan's,"  said  Mr.  Erskine ; 
"  she  will  be  beyond  their  reach,  for  he  will  even  hold 
them  in  parley,  until  she  is  in  the  dominions  of  the 
British  queen.  Many  a  slave  has  landed  there,  who 
will  never  forget  the  kindness  of  Ruth  and  Nathan,  or 
the  basket  which  hung  upon  Ruth's  arm,  when  she 
made  her  appearance.  Well,  no  matter  where,"  said 
he,  "  for  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  much  of  the  '  Under- 
ground Railroad  Depot.'" 

There  was  no  danger  in  his  remark ;  for,  before  he 
had  done  speaking,  James  had  leaped  more  than  one 
fence,  and  the  next  few  minutes  brought  him .  into  a 
cross  road,  about  one  half-mile  from  the  home  of  Mr. 
Erskine,  where  stood  a  closely  covered  carriage  and 
horses.     James  stopped,  and  gave  a  distinct  whistle. 

"  Is  all  ready  ?  "  said  a  man,  who  rose  up  from  be- 
neath the  underbrush. 

"  All  ready,"  responded  James  ;  and  both  he  and  the 
man  entered  the  carriage. 


204  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Push  the  horses,"  said  James ;  "  we  '11  cheat  the 
rascals  this  time." 

And  they  did  push  the  horses ;  the  carriage  moved  at 
a  rapid  rate.  It  soon  stopped,  however,  some  few 
paces  from  Mr.  Erskine's,  directly  in  the  shadow "  of 
the  big  elm.  And  now  the  real  fugitive,  with  her  real 
baby,  came  out.  She  looked  very  much  like  Ella 
Erskine,  when  arrayed  in  her  neat  morning  dress,  with 
her  large  warm  sack,  as  she  was  wont  to  accompany 
Laura  in  her  out-of-door  domestic  affairs. 

The  baby  had  lost  its  blanket,  but  it  was  evidently 
the  gainer  by  an  exchange.  This  time  Mr.  Erskine 
would  not  stay  to  receive  any  thanks,  for  he  immedi- 
ately turned  towards  the  house. 

"  Drive  slow,  until  you  pass  the  first  corner,"  said 
James,  as  the  horses  turned  their  heads  to  the  north. 
"  I  am  going  up  towards  Le  Clare's,"  said  James,  as 
he  put  his  head  in  at  the  door;  "them  fellows  looked 
ugly  at  me,  and  I  'm  afraid  they  '11  make  Edward  and 
Ella  a  heap  of  trouble  up  there.  That  George  Brown- 
son  is  acting  as  a  spy,  and  I  'd  just  like  to  catch  him 
at  it  to-night." 

As  James  neared  the  house  of  Edward  Le  Clare,  he 
thought  he  saw  some  one  in  the  field,  partially  hid  by 
a  tree. 

"  I  have  it,"  said  he,  to  himself,  "  it 's  the  black-hearted 
fellow  skulking  about,  like  a  thief,  as  he  is,  and  his 
father  before  him ;  for  a  partaker  is  as  bad  as  the  thief 
any  time  —  and  he  hopes  to  get  our  Ella,  and  the 
beautiful  farm  yet,  but  I  '11  show  him  a  trick ! "  and  he 
quickened  his  pace. 

He  was  soon  standing  a  little  distance  from  the  door 
of  the  heretofore  quiet  kitchen  of  Mrs.  "Wise,  who  was 


THE    FUGITIVES.  205 

engaged  in  quite  an  altercation  with  the  slave  claim- 
ants, as  to  their  right  to  search  her  house  for  an 
escaped  fugitive.  They  at  length  became  quite  au- 
dacious, Mrs.  Wise  demanding  that  all  the  forms  of 
law  should  be  complied  with  according  to  the  letter. 
Certain  papers  had  been  produced.  "  She  is  trying  to 
gain  time  for  the  fugitive,"  thought  James.  "  I  '11 
give  them  a  chase,"  said  he  to  himself.  Instantly  turn- 
ing, he  passed  round  some  rods  back  of  where  he  had 
seen  the  figure  of  the  man,  and  almost  exactly  imitated 
the  crying  of  a  child.  It  was  near  the  house,  and,  as 
the  outer  door  was  open,  it  was  distinctly  heard  by 
those  within. 

"  She  's  escaped !  She  's  escaped ! "  was  now  the 
cry;  and,  quick  as  thought,  the  claimants  were  all  in 
pursuit. 

As  they  left  the  house,  Mrs.  Wise  rushed  hurriedly 
into  Ella's  room,  exclaiming,  "  They  are  lost !  The 
kidnappers  are  after  the  woman  and  child." 

"  Where  ? "  said  Ella,  as  she  bounded  to  the  door, 
still  clad  in  her  fugitive's  disguise.  At  this  instant,  the 
cry  of  the  child  broke  on  their  ears  again. 

"  It  is  farther  off  in  the  distance  now,"  said  Mrs.  Wise. 

"  I  '11  save  her ! "  cried  Ella,  as  she  bounded  like  a  deer 
over  the  fence,  and  across  the  fields.  She  advanced  but 
a  little  way,  before  she  sent  up  a  wild,  agonizing 
shriek.  "  O  Lord !  my  child !  O  Lord !  where  's  my 
child?"  She  had  not  proceeded  far  in  the  field,  before 
she  was  caught  by  no  less  a  personage  than  George 
Bfownson,  and  held  fast,  while  she  groaned  and  strug- 
gled for  freedom. 

Soon,  one  of  the  slave-catchers,  who  had  now  turned 
his  attention  from  the  child  to  its  mother,  came  up. 

18 


206  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

George  was  about  to  relinquish  his  prize  to  him,  at 
the  same  time  saying,  "  Ten  dollars,  sir,"  when  the 
sight  of  Edward  Le  Clare,  who  had  followed  close 
upon  Ella's  footsteps,  and  whom  he  now  beheld  look- 
ing him  full  in  the  face,  somewhat  daunted  him. 

George  let  go  his  hold,  to  slink  away,  when  Ella 
threw  off  her  bonnet.  The  moon  shone  full  upon  her 
face,  displaying  her  countenance,  now  rendered  doubly 
beautiful  by  excitement.  With  much  suavity,  she 
said,  "  Have  I  the  honor  of  addressing  Mr.  George 
Brownson  ?  "  Then,  speaking  in  a  stern,  dignified  tone 
to  the  slave-catcher,  she  said,  "  Relinquish  your  hold 
on  me,  sir." 

He  was  confounded,  and  instantly  obeyed. 

Ella  continued:  "I  have  made  you  some  trouble, 
sir ;  and  as  this  gentleman,  Mr.  George  Brownson,  is 
entitled  to  ten  dollars  as  a  reward  for  his  acting  in  the 
capacity  of  a  Southern  hound,  it  behooves  me  to  say, 
that  he  has  acted  his  part  faithfully.  I  was  forcibly 
seized,  and  held  as  if  by  the  aforesaid  animal.  But,  as 
I  was  not  the  fugitive  in  question,  though  he  thought 
me  to  be  such,  I  consider  him  justly  entitled  to  his  fee. 
To  save  further  trouble,  therefore,  I  will  say  that,  lest 
my  father  may  be  disposed  to  make  you  some  trouble, 
on  account  of  my  unlawful  seizure  and  detention 
(which,  by  the  way,  might  perhaps  be  made  out  to  be 
an  attempt  to  kidnap  a  free  person  of  the  North),  I 
will  hold  myself  responsible  for  the  ten  dollars,  to  be 
paid  to  Mr.  Brownson.  At  our  next  Ladies' Anti- Slavery 
meeting,  I  will  lay  the  case  before  its  members,  and 
request  them  to  raise  the  money  by  subscription.  I 
will  also  inform  them  of  the  noble  act  performed  by 
him,  this  evening;  and,  for  the  glory  and  honor  thereby 


THE   FUGITIVES.  207 

merited  by  him,  we  will  return  him  our  vote  of  thanks, 
and  award  him  a  pewter  medal." 

Then,  turning  again  to  George,  whose  face  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  marble,  and  who  stood  like  a 
statue,  while  Edward's  eyes  were  bent  piercingly  upon 
him,  she  again  addressed  him :  "  You  have  won  laurels, 
for  yourself,  sir,  this  day !  Your  noble  and  manly  con- 
duct deserves  to  be,  and  shall  be,  heralded  through  the 
nation.     Your  name,  sir,  is  immortalized." 

James,  who  had  finished  his  ruse,  and  who  had  so 
managed  as  to  leave  his  pursuer  almost  in  the  depths 
of  the  wood,  had  come  up,  unperceived  by  any  one,  and 
had  heard  Ella's  remark  in  regard  to  kidnapping.  He 
now  said :  "  I  came  to  look  after  you,  Miss  Ella.  Your 
father  has  been  informed  that  there  are  kidnappers 
about  this  town,  and  that  they  are  chasing  after  you 
and  Mr.  Le  Clare." 

"  You  have  come  just  in  time,"  replied  Ella,  as  she 
gave  her  arm  to  Edward.  "  Return  without  delay,  and 
inform  my  father  that  1  have  been  forcibly  seized  by 
kidnappers  and  their  abettor,  George  Brownson,  and 
that  I  desire  his  attendance  immediately." 

This  had  the  effect  to  start  George,  who  turned  his 
steps  homeward. 

As  Ella  and  Edward  were  returning  to  the  house, 
the  Southerner  whom  they  had  left  in  the  field  set  up  a 
loud  halloo  for  his  companion,  which  made  the  woods 
resound. 

"  You  have  finished  him,  Ella,"  said  Edward ;  "  or,  as 
they  say  in  college,  '  used  him  up.1  George  will  not 
long  remain  in  this  vicinity,  studying  theology.  With 
all  his  meanness,  I  did  not  think  he  could  be  so  black- 
hearted." 


208  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  I  have  long  known  him,  and  learned  to  despise 
him,"  replied  Ella. 

"  I  have  just  come  round  to  tell  you  the  ruse,"  said 
James,  who  now  entered  the  door.  "  You  see,  I  wanted 
to,  give  them  time  to  get  on  to  Nathan's  with  the  fugi- 
tives, and  so  I  cried  like  a  baby ;  but  I  did  n't  intend  to 
get  you  into  their  clutches,  Miss  Ella.  It 's  worked 
mighty  well,  though,  and  the  baby-dealers  will  be 
glad  to  be  off  to  Kentuck'  in  no  time.  I  've  found  their 
horses,  and  set  them  loose,"  continued  he,  "  and  the 
man-thieves  will  have  to  take  to  their  own  heels.  I 
reckon  'twill  cost  them  something  before  they  get 
home.  But  that  fellow  is  lost  in  the  woods,  and  I  'm 
going  round  to  cry  again,  to  bring  them  together,  so 
that  they  can  start  fair." 

We  will  follow  James  in  Ms  manoeuvres.  Taking 
a  circuitous  route,  he  entered  the  edge  of  the  wood 
nearer  to  the  village  than  where  he  now  saw  the  man 
standing  in  the  field,  waiting  for  his  companion. 
Placing  himself  behind  a  tree,  he  again  set  up  the  baby- 
cry.  In  a  short  time,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing 
footsteps  advancing  from  both  directions.  Leaving  his 
post,  he  again  went  forward  about  the  same  distance, 
and  uttered  another  cry.  He  continued  on  in  this 
manner,  still  crying  and  still  retreating,  until  he  came 
to  the  village  graveyard,  when,  leaping  over  the  fence, 
he  gave  the  last  cry  from  a  deep  hollow  between  two 
graves. 

On  reaching  this  point,  our  Southern  adventurers 
had  become  somewhat  superstitious.  They  however 
leaped  the  fence,  and  passed  on  a  few  rods  in  their 
haste,  before  they  observed  their  location.     They  stood 


THE    FUGITIVES.  209 

still ;  all  was  silent  as  the  tombs  around  them,  except 
the  faint  crying  of  an  infant,  as  though  deep  in  a  grave. 

"  We  have  been  in  full  chase  after  a  ghost,"  said  one 
of  them,  in  horror,  as  he  took  to  his  heels,  and  at  one 
bound  cleared  the  graveyard  fence. 

But  not  so  well  with  the  other ;  for,  in  endeavoring 
to  follow  his  companion,  he  stumbled,  and  fell  over  one 
of  the  smaller  gravestones,  and  pitched  headlong  into  a 
dense  patch  of  briers.  Instantly  there  came  unearthly 
groans  from  a  grave  near  by,  and  a  hoarse  voice  said : 
"  Depart  from  out  the  hallowed  ground  of  Northern 
freemen,  you  unhallowed  and  blood-thirsty  wretch! 
Haste !  or  thine  hour  has  come.  Haste  !  or  thou  wilt 
be  struck  dumb,  and  thy  limbs  stiffened,  that  thou 
canst  not  move.  "Wouldn't  thou  steal  infants  from 
their  graves  ?  " 

Our  slave-catcher  found  his  limbs  trembling,  and  his 
hands  holding  on  to  one  of  the  tombstones ;  when,  all 
of  a  sudden,  a  most  terrific  groan,  and  an  appearance 
of  a  man  in  white  arose  from  a  grave  near  by,  and  ad- 
vanced to  seize  him.  At  one  bound,  he  cleared  several 
feet,  and,  leaping  grave  after  grave,  and  also  the  fence, 
he  was  soon  lost  in  the  distance. 

"  There  they  go,  one  devil  after  the  other,"  said 
James,  laughing  to  himself;  "but,  if  they  don't  meet 
till  they  get  to  old  Kentuck',  or  into  t'  other  world,  it 's 
mighty  little  I  care,  for  I  'm  now  going  home,  as  my 
throat  fairly  aches  making  them  strange  noises,  and  I 
believe  I  've  scratched  my  shins,  too ;  but  1  '11  set  that 
off  against  that  booby  wlio  pitched  into  the  briars,  and 
ran  away  last."     And  James  laughed  heartily. 

On  his  arrival  at  home,  he  found  Mr.  Erskine  still  up, 
and  suffering  no  small  amount  of  anxiety  on  account 
18* 


210  THE   CUR3E   ENTAILED. 

of  his  long  absence.  James  made  straight  for  the 
pantry,  and  partook  plentifully  of  a  lunch. 

"  I  'm  real  tired,"  said  he  as  he  seated  himself  in  the 
room  with  Mr.  Erskine,  "  but  I  can't  sleep,  if  I  should 
try,  till  I  've  told  you  all  about  it." 

Mr.  Erskine  was  as  anxious  to  hear  as  James  to  tell. 
He  proceeded  to  relate  all  the  events  of  the  night,  em- 
bellishing them,  by  the  way,  with  his  own  fancies,  and 
telling  how  he  had  laughed  till  his  sides  ached. 

Mr.  Erskine  also  laughed  heartily  many  times  during 
the  recital ;  but  what  diverted  him  most  was  James, 
imitating  the  cry  of  a  child. 

"  You  see,"  said  James,  "  I  learned  that  when  I  was 
a  child.  Uncle  Paul  lived  right  close  to  my  father,  and 
Aunt  Sally  had  a  baby  that  always  cried,  from  morning 
till  night,  and  from  night  till  morning  again ;  and  Aunt 
Sally  would  have  me  to  rock  and  tend  it.  Well,  I 
hated  to  do  so  dreadfully,  though  I  used  to  try  hard  to 
keep  it  still.  At  last,  when  the  brat  would  n't  stop 
crying  anyhow,  I  would  set  in  and  mock  it ;  and  I  did 
this  so  well  that  Aunt  Sally  could  n't  tell  our  crying 
apart.  This  made  her  mad,  and  so  she  employed 
Polly  Eastman  to  tend  it,  and  I  got  rid  of  the  task 
altogether. 

"  I  had  n't  tried  mocking  a  squaller  before,  these  live 
years,  though  I  used  to  practice  it  a  good  deal.  Mother 
scolded  me  severely  for  it,  and  said  she  had  crying 
enough  with  the  young  ones.  But  father  told  her  it 
might  be  of  use  to  me  some  day ;  and  now  I  mean  to 
practice  it  again,"  and  tmmediately  he  commenced 
crying. 

Mr.   Erskine   laughed;    and  the   plaintive  wail  of 


THE    FUGITIVES.  211 

James  had  the  effect  to  bring  Laura  to  the  door,  to  in- 
quire if  the  fugitive  had  got  back. 

"  Your  father  was  right,"  said  Mr.  Erskine.  "  It  has 
indeed  been  of  use,  not  only  to  yourself,  but  to  one  in 
need,  who  has  profited  by  your  talent.  And  now," 
continued  he,  "  if  you  are  not  too  tired,  just  tell  me  how 
you  found  out  that  George  Brownson  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  affair." 

James  gave  a  few  "  ahems,"  to  clear  out  his  throat, 
and  then  said :  "  Well,  you  see,  I  went  right  to  the 
mill;  and,  after  unloading,  and  setting  the  miller  to 
work,  I  walked  about  the  village  awhile,  to  see  what 
was  going  on. 

"  Finally,  I  entered  Mr.  Kent's  store.  The  clerk  was 
there  alone.  I  sat  down  on  a  box,  and  told  him  I 
would  like  some  crackers  and  cheese.  I  thought  he 
did  n't  look  at  me  just  right,  and  finally  he  told  me  that 
I  could  get  them  across  the  road,  at  Mr.  Camp's. 
Well,  I  did  n't  like  it  very  much,  for  I  knew  he  had 
them,  and  that  store  was  where  I  always  bought  them. 
He  was  a  new  clerk,  and  I  thought  he  did  n't  act  much 
like  a  gentleman ;  and  so  I  concluded  to  sit  still,  while 
all  the  time  he  kept  looking  at  the  door,  which  I 
thought  was  as  much  to  say, '  I  wish  you'd  go.'  Well, 
the  next  I  knew,  I  heard  a  child  cry  in  the  chamber, 
right  over  the  store.  I  knew  where  it  was,  for  I  've 
been  up  there  many  a  time.  Soon  I  heard  steps  on  the 
stairs.  The  clerk  went  straight  to  the  chamber-door, 
and  turned  the  key,  and  down  came  Mr.  Kent.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  me,  he  came  right  up,  and  shook  my 
hand,  as  though  he  was  real  glad  to  see  me :  and  at 
last  he  told  me  so,  and  ordered  the  clerk  to  give  me 
some  crackers  and  cheese.     I  thought  the  fellow  would 


212  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

look  quite  chopfallen,  but  he  did  n't  —  he  handed  them 
to  me  as  pleasantly  as  you  please ;  and,  when  he 
passed  the  raisin-box,  he  took  out  a  handful,  and  laid 
them  on  the  plate. 

"  Not  long  after,  Mrs.  Kent  came  down,  and  I  could 
see  that  she  had  been  crying.  But  she  spoke  to  me.  I 
asked  her  if  any  of  her  folks  were  sick,  and  then  she 
took  a  chair,  and  sat  right  down  by  me,  and  told  me 
all  about  the  poor  woman  and  child,  and  said  that '  her 
back  was  all  scarred  up ;  that  her  master  had  sold  her 
husband,  and  two  of  her  children  down  the  river ;  that 
they  were  going  to  kidnap  her  baby,  and  compel  her  to 
take  another  husband;  and  that  was  what  made  her 
run  away.' 

"  She  said  that  the  fugitive  had  lain  by  in  the  woods 
till  she  was  almost  starved  and  worn  out;  that  she 
travelled  nights,  and  was  very  poor  and  feeble.  She 
met  one  of  the  men  in  pursuit  of  her,  right  in  the 
street;  and,  while  he  was  gone  for  the  officer  to  help 
take  her,  she  ran  into  the  store,  and  hid  up  stairs. 

"  Just  now,  Mr.  Kent  came  in,  and  said  that  they 
would  have  to  start  early  with  the  woman,  as  the  claim- 
ant had  got  authority  to  seize  her,  and  he  wished  I 
would  hurry  home  and  tell  you  to  be  on  the  look-out, 
and  ready  to  assist,  if  there  should  be  any  trouble. 

"  Well,  I  went  back  to  the  mill,  but  did  not  get 
started  till  about  three  o'clock.  As  I  was  crossing  one 
of  the  streets,  I  saw  George  Brownson  coming  along, 
as  big  as  life.  He  stopped  to  speak  to  some  one,  and  I 
noticed  that  he  had  on  a  new  white  hat,  and  a  new 
brown  sack  overcoat. 

"  I  had  driven  about  half-way,  at  rather  a  slow  rate,  for 
the  roads  were  bad  and  the  load  heavy,  when,  just  as  I 


THE    FUGITIVES.  213 

was  close  to  the  Five  Mile  corners,  I  heard  the  sound 
of  horses'  hoofs  behind  me  in  the  distance. 

'"Something's  up,'  thought  I,  'about  the  woman.' 
Quick  as  a  wink  I  whipped  up  the  horses,  till  I  came  to 
the  big  hill,  when  I  turned  right  into  the  path  where 
you  told  me  to  go  before  they  fixed  the  hill. 

"  I  had  just  got  well  hid  behind  those  trees,  when  on 
came  three  horsemen.  They  were  talking  rather  loud, 
and,  as  they  rode  up  the  hill,  I  could  hear  what  they 
said.  One  of  the  men  I  thought  was  George,  by  his 
hat  and  coat. 

"  '  It 's  an  abolition  neighborhood,'  said  he,  '  and  the 
underground  railroad  passes  right  through  it.  They  will 
probably  be  here  with  the  fugitives  about  nine  o'clock, 
and  stop  at  Erskine's  or  Groat's,  or  perhaps  go  on  to 
Nathan's,  which  is  about  five  miles  further;  but  we 

had  better  stop  at  C ,  and  wait  till  they  come  up. 

My  father  is  the  minister  of  the  place,  and  pro-slavery 
enough,  I  assure  you.  But  it  will  hardly  do  for  me  to 
act  openly  or  boldly  in  the  matter,  as  I  am  expected  to 
become  his  colleague,  and  many  of  his  parishioners  are 
strongly  opposed  to  slavery.  Still,  for  the  sake  of  this 
glorious  Union  I  will  do  all  I  can  without  injuring  my 
reputation  and  influence  among  them.  And,'  said  he,  in 
conclusion,  '  you  know  the  good  book  says,  "  The 
laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire."  ' 

"  I  think  the  slave-catchers  did'nt  understand  the 
Bible  very  well,  for  they  stopped  their  horses,  and  said 

that  was  a  d d  lie,  got  up  by  the  abolitionists,  and 

was  not  in  the  Bible. 

"  This  George  explained,  by  telling  them  that  it  was 
a  quotation  from  the  Bible,  and  that  it  referred  particu- 
larly to  ministers,  or  those  like  himself  who  were  pre- 


214  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

paring  for  the  ministry.  But  they  were  not  to  be  put 
off  so.  One  of  them  shook  his  fist,  and  told  George 
he  had  better  not  lead  them  into  an  ambuscade  of 
abolitionists,  for  he  had  been  told  they  were  worse 
than  the  Indians. 

"  Finally,  they  all  rode  off.  But  I  noticed  that  the 
slave-catchers  kept  a  little  behind,  and  talked  to  them- 
selves every  now  and  then,  looking  at  George  as  though 
they  were  suspicious  of  him." 

"  George  is  meaner  than  I  thought  he  was,"  said  Mr. 
Erskine,  indignantly. 

"  Well,"  continued  James,  "  after  they  were  gone,  I 
concluded  to  wait  for  our  friends,  until  they  came  up 
with  the  fugitive,  and  consult  as  to  what  was  best  to 
be  done.  I  had  not  long  to  wait,  and  we  soon  had  it 
all  planned." 

"  And  it  has  worked  admirably,"  said  Mr.  Erskine. 
"  But  George  has  run  himself  into  an  ambuscade,  from 
which  he  will  not  escape  with  his  scalp.  You,  James, 
may  keep  charge  here,  and  I  will  ride  over  to  Nathan's. 
The  poor  fugitives  need  rest,  and  I  think  Ruth  may 
perhaps  want  to  keep  them  a  few  days.  They  have 
plenty  of  hiding-places,  and  Nathan  is  never  afraid  to 
meet  slave-catchers.  But  it  would  be  well  to  make  the 
poor  fugitives'  minds  easy.  They  are  like  other  folks, 
and  get  extremely  nervous  sometimes.  Nathan  likes  to 
know  all  the  whys  and  wherefores  in  such  cases,  and 
then  he  makes  capital  out  of  them — which  turns  to 
the  account  of  freedom  —  by  exposing  those  who  are 
mean  enough  to  pursue  such  villainy  as  George  has 
been  in  to-night ;  and  doughfaces  dread  him,  he  does 
things  up  so  clean.     So,  now  you  may  bring  round  the 


THE   FUGITIVES.  215 

carriage,  and  I  will  ride  up,  and  take  Ella  with  me. 
We  will  be  there  before  breakfast-time,  I  think." 

"  There  he  goes,  now,"  said  James,  as  he  opened  the 
outer  door,  to  obey  the  order  of  Mr.  Erskine.  At  the 
next  instant,  James  was  crying  like  a  baby. 

"  It 's  him ! "  said  Mr.  Erskine,  as  a  horseman  shot 
past  at  full  gallop.  "  I  think  he  will  never  become  the 
colleague  of  his  father  in  C ,  unless  it  be  in  catch- 
ing runaways,"  said  Mr.  Erskine.  * 

"  He  is  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  the  morning,"  said 
James  ;  "  but  he  won't  get  where  I  can't '  cry  baby'  to 
him  very  soon." 

The  events  of  the  night  were  so  vivid  in  the  mind  of 
Ella  as  to  cause  wakefulness.  She  was  thinking  of 
the  poor  fugitives  —  of  the  slave  mother's  noble  appear- 
ance, despite  the  misery  depicted  upon  her  countenance ; 
and  how  well  she  (Ella)  would  like  to  know  whether 
the  brave  runaway  had  reached  Nathan's — when  she 
heard  a  carriage  approaching  the  house.  Slipping  out 
of  bed,  and  stepping  to  the  window,  she  saw  her  father 
enter  the  yard.  Dressing  herself  and  descending  the 
stairs,  she  met  him  with  an  eager  inquiry  respecting 
the  fugitives. 

"  They  are,  no  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "  safely  de- 
posited in  Ruth's  front  chamber,  under  the  white  coun- 
terpane, between  her  woollen  sheets,  while  Ruth  is 
beside  them,  speaking  words  of  comfort,  and  hushing 
the  little  one  as  tenderly  as  she  ever  did  her  own  David, 
or  the  noble  Esther.  So  now,  Ella,  just  step  in,  and 
tell  Mrs.  Wise  that  she  may  not  think  George  Brown- 
son  has  really  kidnapped  you,  and  we  will  ride  over 
and  take  breakfast  with  Nathan." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OUR  OLD  FRIENDS,  NATHAN  AND  RUTH. THE  UNDER- 
GROUND DEPOT. 

The  morning  was  invigorating;  and,  before  Ella 
reached  Nathan's,  her  vivacity  returned.  As  they  drew 
near  the  house,  a  large  mastiff  sent  forth  a  warning  to 
the  inmates  of  the  approach  of  some  one ;  and  in  a 
few  seconds  Nathan  appeared  on  the  terrace,  in  front 
of  the  building,  and  looked  in  various  directions,  as  if 
to  reconnoitre,  while  the  dog  seated  himself  on  his 
haunches  and  watched  the  movements  of  his  master. 

As  the  carriage  ascended  the  hill,  Nathan  evidently 
recognized  its  occupants,  for  he  came  to  open  the  gate, 
not  forgetting  to  pat  the  dog  upon  his  neck  as  he 
passed,  saying,  "  Thee  is  a  faithful  creature,  Wolf,  but 
it  is  Ella  who  has  come." 

"  Thee  is  welcome,"  said  Nathan,  as  he  gave  his 
hand  to  Ella,  to  assist  her  in  alighting  from  the  carriage ; 
"  thee  is  welcome,  Benjamin,"  said  he,  as  with  one 
hand  he  took  the  reins  and  gave  the  other  to  Mr. 
Erskine. 

"  Here,  Wolf,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  dog, 
"  here  are  Benjamin  and  Ella.  Show  them  to  the  fire, 
while  I  lead  away  the  beast."  Wolf  turned,  followed 
by  our  friends,  entered  the  outer  door,  which  was  open, 
and,  approaching  an  inner  door,  lifted  his  paw,  placed 
it  upon  the  thumb-piece  of  the  old  fashioned  latch,  and 

t  (216) 


THE   UNDERGROUND   DEPOT.  217 

the  door  flew  open.  Wolf  stepped  back,  and  Ella 
and  her  father  entered  the  room.  Wolf  then  disap- 
peared, and  Ella  heard  him  give  a  low  whine. 

"  That  is  to  notify  Ruth  that  'her  presence  is  re- 
quired," said  Mr.  Erskine. 

"  If  I  could  find  another  such  dog  as  that,"  said 
Ella,  "  I  believe  I  could  so  far  overcome  my  antipathy 
to  the  canine  race  as  to  admit  him  to  our  house." 

Ruth  soon  made  her  appearance,  and  also  gave  our 
friends  a  kind  welcome. 

"  The  woman  is  very  feeble,"  said  Ruth,  in  reply  to 
Ella's  inquiry  after  the  fugitives.  "  I  staid  in  her  room 
all  night.  She  is  very  nervous,  and  starts  at  every 
noise,  thinldng,  of  course,  that  the  human  hounds  have 
tracked  her." 

Wolf  had  now  become  an  inmate  of  the  sitting-room, 
awaiting  quietly  the  will  of  Ruth. 

"  I  will  bring  up  the  breakfast  soon,"  said  Ruth,  as 
Nathan  entered,  and  seated  himself  with  his  guests. 

Ella  disappeared  for  a  few  minutes  with  Ruth. 
Wolf  kept  his  eye  fixed  upon  the  door ;  and,  on  Ella's 
return  to  the  room,  he  arose  to  his  feet,  advanced  to 
meet  her,  and  led  the  way  to  the  rocking-chair.  When 
she  had  taken  her  seat,  he  looked  at  Nathan,  as  if  to 
receive  a  look  or  word  indicative  of  approbation. 
"  That 's  right,"  said  Nathan.  The  dog  approached 
him  and  received  another  pat  upon  the  neck. 

"  He  's  a  knowing  dog,  Ella,"  said  Nathan,  "  and  more 
to  be  trusted,  in  some  cases,  than  one  in  ten  of  the 
human  race.  I  have  not  tried  it,"  continued  he,  "but  I 
would  not  be  afraid  to  leave  him  in  charge  of  a  fugitive, 
even  if  there  were  four  of  those  fellows  attempting  to 
enter  the  house  at  once,  provided  they  had  no  firearms. 

19 


218  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

He  will  scent  the  miserable  slave-catchers  when  there  is  a 
fugitive  in  the  house.  I  have  known  him  to  be  gone  a 
whole  day  at  a  time,  and  then  come  home  and  warn  us 
of  approaching  danger,  by  his  low  growl." 

Breakfast  was  now  served,  after  which  Ella,  accom- 
panied Ruth  to  the  chamber  of  the  fugitives,  leaving 
Mr.  Erskine  to  inform  Nathan  of  the  result  of  last 
night's  slave  hunt. 

They  found  the  woman  up  and  dressed.  Ruth 
retired,  and  Ella  undertook  to  wash  and  dress  the  little 
one.  "  I  never  have  done  such  work,"  said  she,  "  but  I 
believe  I  can  do  it."  The  task  was  soon  completed. 
"  Oh !  she 's  real  pretty,"  said  Ella,  as  she  handed  the 
child  to  her  mother,  at  the  same  time  imprinting  a  kiss 
upon  its  cheek.  A  sigh  was  the  only  response  from  the 
slave  mother. 

"  Ruth  says  your  husband  and  children  were  sold," 
observed  Ella. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  woman,  "  dey  sell  Joe  five  years 
ago,  an'  I  neber  hearn  ob  'im  since,  an'  I  hab  two 
chil'ren,  an'  when  I  fret  'bout  Joe,  mas'r  sell  dem." 
Here  she  hesitated  a  minute,  and  then  continued : 
"  Well,  dis  one,  she  mas'r's  own  child ;  an'  one  day  I 
hearn  'im  tell  de  oberseer  he  's  goin'  to  sell  her,  an'  den 
make  me  hab  anoder  husband,  an'  hab  five  or  six  chil- 
'ren more.  An'  den  I  run  away,  for  I  t'inks  I  '11  neber 
do  dat." 

"  So  he  was  going  to  sell  his  own  child  ? "  replied 
Ella.  "  Oh !  yes,"  replied  the  fugitive.  "  Dey  do  dat 
t'ousand  times,  all  'bout  on  dem  ar'  plantations.  One 
ob  de  slaves  hab  child  by  mas'r,  an'  'im  sell  it,  an'  den, 
w'en  young  mas'r  com'  'ome  from  de  big  school 
w'ere  'im  go  to  learn,  she  hab  child  by  young  mas'r, 


THE    UNDERGROUND    DEPOT.  219 

an'  den  ole  mas'r  sell  dat.  But  I  lub  Joe  alius," 
said  she,  and  she  burst  into  tears.  Ella  could  not 
refrain  from  weeping  also. 

Ruth's  voice  was  now  heard  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs.     "  Will  thee  come  down  now,  Ella  ?  "  said  she. 

"  There  are  a  great  many  fugitives  coming  North 
now,"  said  Ella,  as  she  arose  to  go,  at  the  same  time 
drawing  her  handkerchief  from  her  pocket  to  wipe  the 
tears  from  her  eyes,  "  and  perhaps  you  may  yet  meet 
Joe  in  Canada." 

"  I  want  thee  to  sit  down,  and  run  these  pieces 
together  for  a  bandage,"  said  Ruth,  as  Ella  made  her 
appearance.  "  Another  fugitive  has  just  come,  and 
Nathan  has  gone  down  with  thy  father  to  the  depot  to 
bring  him  to  the  house.  The  fugitive  is  a  man,  and  he 
is  not  afraid  of  being  followed,  at  present ;  but  I  do 
not  know  much  about  the  circumstances  of  his  escape. 
Nathan  said,  that  he  came  from  away  down  near  New 
Orleans;  that  he  had  been  badly  whipped,  and  ran 
away  soon  after ;  that  the  cuts  on  his  back  were  deep, 
and  that  his  shirt  had  stuck  fast  to  the  sores.  We 
must  have  some  soft  water  warmed  to  soak  it  off.  '  He 
had  better  come  to  the  house,"  said  Ruth,  "  for  then  I 
can  nurse  him  better." 

Ruth  arose,  and  took  down  a  cup  of  ointment  from 
the  cupboard.  "  Nathan  made  it  himself,"  said  Ruth 
as  she  saw  Ella  examining  it ;  "  it  is  a  precious  oint- 
ment, and  wonderfully  healing." 

"  I  would  like  to  know  how  to  make  it,"  said  Ella. 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you,"  responded  Ruth.  "  Nathan 
scrapes  off  the  inner  bark  from  bitter-sweet  and  elder, 
and  steeps  it  thoroughly  in  lard  or  butter  ;  then  strains 


220  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

it  off.  It  is  very  nice,  and  can  be  used  for  all  pains 
and  sores." 

Ella  had  finished  the  bandage,  and  was  looking  at  it, 
when  Ruth  said:  "  It  is  a  piece  of  my  domestic  flannel; 
we  don't  use  cotton ;  all  the  articles  we  use  are  of 
home  production.  We  do  not  think  it  right  to  encour- 
age the  slaveholders  by  buying  the  products  of  slave 
labor.  I  do  not  see  but  we  get  along  just  as  well  with- 
out them,  —  at  any  rate,  we  are  very  comfortably  off. 
I  prepare  all  my  jellies  and  preserves  in  clarified  maple 
sugar.  "Would  you  not  like  to  see  them,  Ella  ?  "  asked 
Ruth. 

They  entered  a  neat,  cool  cellar,  upon  a  level  with 
the  kitchen,  through  which  ran  a  stream  of  pure  spring 
water.  Suspended  in  the  centre  was  a  large  safe. 
Here  Ruth  had  arranged  her  jellies  and  sweetmeats  — 
quince,  pear,  peach,  plum,  cherry,  currant,  gooseberry, 
blackberry,  cranberry,  tomato,  and  so  on.  Ella  tasted 
of  some,  and  pronounced  them  delicious.  The  ex- 
amination was  cut  short  by  Nathan,  who  wanted  the 
articles  Ruth  had  prepared  for  the  last  comer.  While 
Nathan  and  Mr.  Erskine  were  attending  to  his  wants, 
Ruth  and  Ella  visited  the  fugitive  woman  and  child  in 
the  chamber. 

Before  Mr.  Erskine  anjl  Ella  returned  home,  they 
wished  to  learn  more  of  the  fugitive  man's  history. 

"  Where  was  thee  born  ? "  interrogated  Nathan. 

"I  was  raised  in  old  Kentuck',"  said  the  fugitive; 
"  but  was  sold  som'  five  or  six  years  ago  down  de  riber. 
I  felt  berry  bad  den,  'kaze  I  nab  to  lebe  my  wife  an' 
chil'ren.  I  neber  dis'bey'd  ole  mas'r ;  but  he  tell  de 
oberseer  w'ip  me,  'kaze  I  mind  young  mas'r  one  day, 
w'en  ole  mas'r  gone  'way ;  and  for  dat  I  ran  'way." 


THE    UNDERGROUND    DEPOT.  221 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Erskine. 

"  Dey  call  me  Joe,"  replied  the  fugitive. 

"  What  was  your  master's  name  ?  "  asked  Ella. 

"  William  Le  Rux." 

"  And  were  you  the  slave  of  William  Booth  when  in 
Kentucky  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  Joe's  answer. 

"  And  have  you  two  children  — two  girls  ?  "  said 
Ella,  eagerly. 

"  Oh  yes,  missis,  an'  dey  be  gals,"  said  Joe  wonder- 

ingly. 

Ella  ran  to  the  chamber  of  the  slave  woman,  and 
said,  with  a  hurried  tone,  "  Your  husband  has  come." 

The  woman  started,  fixed  her  eyes  anxiously  on 
Ella,  and  said :  "  Laws,  now,  missis,  you  've  skeer'd 
me!  O  missis!  you  shouldn't  bodder  me  'kaze  I 
feels  bad  'bout  Joe,  w'en  I  neber  'spects  to  see  'im 
'gin." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  joking,  surely,"  said  Ella.  "Joe  has 
escaped  from  away  down  near  New  Orleans,  and  is 
now  in  this  house." 

The  woman,  with  her  child  in  her  arms,  bounded 
towards  the  door ;  stopping  suddenly,  she  returned,  sat 
down,  laid  her  baby  across  her  lap,  looked  at  it,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

After  a  little  time,  Ella  went  to  her,  and,  taking  the 
baby,  said,  "  Come,  will  you  go  down  now  ?  " 

"  O  missis ! "  replied  the  woman,  "  I  jest  can't  go 
down,  nohow,  an'  don't  take  de  babe  —  'kase " 

"  Because  what  ?  "  asked  Ella. 

"  O  missis !  'kase  I  've  hearn  Joe  say,  he  'd  be  drefful 
mad  if  1  hab  chil'ren  by  mas'r,  or  any  oder  man.  But 
mas'r  sell  Joe,  an'  den  I  cou'd  n't  help  it.  Ah,  den  I 
19* 


222  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

kno'd,  too,  w'at  for  mas'r  sell  'ira.  O  missis,  I  feel  so 
bad,  I  can't  see  Joe  wid  dis  babe.  I  wish  I  'd  run  off 
wid  it  dis  mornin',  'fore  Joe  com'.  Oh,  I  jest  wish  I 
cou'd  see  my  Joe  an'  not  hab  'im  know  it." 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  feel  bad,  and  I  am  sorry  for 
you,"  said  Ella ;  "  but  it  was  your  master  that  I  blame. 
You  must  wipe  away  your  tears,  and  I  will  manage  for 
you." 

.  So  saying,  Ella  took  the  baby  and  went  down  stairs. 
As  she  seated  herself,  Joe  looked  earnestly  at  it,  as 
much  as  to  say,  he  would  like  to  know  where  she  got 
that  baby.  The  child  was  pleased  to  see  Joe,  and  held 
out  its  little  hands,  and  made  a  jump  towards  him. 

Said  Ella :  "  We  have  a  fugitive  woman  up  stairs, 
from  Kentucky.  She  says  her  master  sold  her  husband 
about  five  or  six  years  ago,  and  that  it  'most  killed  her, 
for  she  loved  him  very  much.  And,  after  a  while,  he 
sold  her  two  little  girls.  She  mourned  over  her  lost 
husband  and  children  a  long  time.  She  says  she  had 
this  child  by  her  master,  and  that  he  was  going  to  sell 
it  too,  and  make  her  take  another  man  that  she  did  not 
love,  and  so  she  ran  away."  Ella  had  watched  the 
countenance  of  Joe  while  she  was  speaking,  and  saw 
that,  at  last,  his  curiosity  was  so  excited  as  to  make 
him  look  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  Her  master's  name  was  Booth,"  said  Ella. 

Joe's  eyes  dilated  in  astonishment 

"  And  her  husband's  name  was  Joe,"  she  continued. 

Joe  lifted  both  hands,  and  attempted  to  rise  to  his 
feet,  as  he  said :  "  O  Lord,  it 's  Nancy !  O  now,  mas'r, 
I  knows  it's  her!  I  knows —  I  knows  —  I  jest  knows' 
it  's  my  own  Nancy !  Wal,  now,  dis  be  w'at  young 
mas'r  say  'bout  de  Lord,  for  'im  say  dat  I  'd  better  not  go 


THE    UNDERGROUND    DEPOT.  223 

to  Kentuck'  arter  Nancy  an'  de  chil'ren ;  'im  say,  I  go 
straight  off  to  Can'da,  an'  pray  to  de  Lord,  an'  be  good, 
an'  if  de  Lord  t'inks  best,  den  dey  com'  rite  dar  too." 

"  And  now  you  must  pray  for  your  children  to  come 
to  you,"  said  Mr.  Ersldne. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Joe,  "  I  t'inks  'im  be  bery  good.  I  '11 
tell  Nancy  tu  pray  too,  an'  I  '11  tell  her  all  'bout  de 
Lord,  jest  w'at  Mas'r  Frank  told  me." 

Joe's  eyes  now  turned  very  anxiously  towards  the  door 
through  which  Ella  had  entered  with  the  child,  while 
he  rose  to  his  feet. 

Ruth  now  arose,  and,  telling  him  to  follow,  led  the 
way  up  the  stairs.  Ruth  pointed  him  to  the  door  of 
the  chamber  containing  Nancy,  and  then  returned  to 
Ella,  who  had  lain  the  sleeping  child  upon  the  bed. 

Ella  had  her  bonnet  and  shawl  on,  and  was  about 
taking  leave  of  Ruth,  when  the  fugitive  woman 
appeared,  and,  her  countenance  beaming  with  joy, 
said,  "  Joe 's  allers  berry  good.  O  missis,  I  t'inks  site 
ob  Joe ! " 

"  Good  bye,"  said  Ella  ;  "  I  am  going  home  now." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  missis,"  said  Nancy,  with  a  smile,  as 
she  turned  to  go  back  to  Joe,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms. 

"  I  must  tell  you  about  Nathan's  dog,"  said  Mr. 
Erskine  to  Ella.  "  When  Nathan  left  the  table,  he 
filled  a  plate  with  food  for  Wolf,  but  the  creature  was 
nowhere  to  be  found. 

" '  Something  new  is  up,'  said  Nathan,  as  he  ceased 
calling  the  dog,  and  turned  his  eyes  in  a  particular 
direction.  Then  he  sat  down,  and  I  finished  relating 
to  him  the  adventure  of  last  night. 

"  Wolf  came  home,  placed  his  paw  upon  the  latch 
of  the  door,  and,  entering,  took  hold  of  Nathan's  coat, 


L>L'4 


THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 


and  gave  a  low  whine.  '  There  is  another  fugitive  at 
the  depot,'  said  Nathan,  as  he  turned  and  followed  the 
dog. 

"  I  of  course  went  with  him,  and  we  soon  found  Joe. 
He  had  been  brought  on  in  the  night,  and  left  at  the 
depot,  where  it  is  understood  by  the  Underground 
Railroad  folks  that  they  are  to  leave  passengers.  From 
that  place  the  dog  always  brings  the  news  to  Nathan." 


CHAPTER    XX. 
edward's  search  among  his  mother's  papers. 

After  breakfast,  which  was  not  furnished  by  Mrs. 
Wise  at  as  early  an  hour  as  usual,  Edward  again  entered 
his  mother's  room ;  and,  seating  himself,  commenced  an 
examination  of  her  papers.  Upon  one  he  found  writ- 
ten a  few  words,  as  follows : 

"  Edward,  to  know  and  do  my  duty  in  all  things  is 
now  the  great  aim  of  my  life.  I  write  because  it 
seems  to  me  the  direction  of  Providence  that  I  should 
do  so. 

"  I  have  fondly  hoped,  that  I  should  live  until  you  had 
finished  your  college  course ;  but  this  fearful  thing, 
slavery,  seems  to  hold  me  suspended  between  life  and 
death.  I  know  not  whether  this,  or  any  of  my  papers, 
will  ever  meet  your  eye.  If  at  any  time  I  should  feel 
it  to  be  God's  will  that  I  should  burn  these  papers,  I 
[shall  do  so ;  but,  if  I  die  suddenly,  and  they  fall  into 
our  hands,  receive  them  as  a  beacon-light  from  Heaven, 

0  guide  you  to  a  farther  examination.     You  will  find 
he  key  to  my  bureau  with  this  paper,  in  this  drawer. 

pen  the  upper  drawer,  and  in  a  small  mahogany  box 
ou  will  find  the  key  to  my  small  trunk,  which  stands 
n    the  deep    drawer  of  the    bureau.      Examine   the 
>apers,  and  may  God  be  with  you." 
|   Edward  did  as  directed,  and  found  the  following: 
!  "  I  believe  I  have  from  infancy  been  the  victim  of 

1  (225) 


226  THE    CUR3E    ENTAILED. 

wrong.  Why  is  it  that  my  mind  has  ever  been  filled 
with  a  series  of  dreams,  as  it  were  ?  Why  is  it  that 
constantly,  in  my  waking  hours,  I  seem  to  see  that 
beautiful  being  so  in  accordance  with  my  dreams? 
Dreams,  did  I  say  ?  So  like  what  at  times  appears  to 
have  been  reality.  But  his  mother  told  me  it  was  im- 
agination. How  could  a  child,  situated  as  I  then  was, 
have  imagined  anything  so  beautiful  ?  And  she  who 
so  often  came  to  me? — that  might,  perhaps,  have  been 
imagination.  Yet  I  felt  that  I  had  seen  some  one  like 
her.  But  she  is  brighter  now.  Margaret,  in  my  child- 
hood, told  me  things  which  I  now  remember  as  well  as 
if  they  transpired  yesterday.  I  was  a  child,  then,  and 
did  not  ponder  upon  it  as  I  do  now." 

On  the  same  sheet  was  written  the  following : 
"  I  believe  I  can  sketch  the  scenery  which  is  so 
vividly  imprinted  upon  my  mind ;  for  it  seems  to  grow 
clearer  to  me  every  day.  I  see  a  beautiful  woman 
looking  at  me,  with  love  and  affection  beaming  in  her 
countenance.  She  smiles  and  reaches  out  her  hand 
towards  me.  The  scenery  or  landscape  is  very  beautiful. 
Then  I  see  the  various  rooms  in  a  splendid  mansion, 
which  has  yards  attached ;  and  I  am  being  led  forward 
by  the  lady,  and  we  stand  gazing  at  the  scenery. 
These  are  dear  and  unalterable  remembrances ;  they 
cannot  be  infant  imaginations.  There  is,  I  am  con- 
vinced, that  which  could  save  —  and  yet  I  know  not 
what  to  do.  O  Edward !  O  Edith  !  God  protect  you. 
Oh,  may  you  never  be  stricken  like  your  poor  mother ! 
I  ponder  in  vain  for  some  way  of  relief." 

Edward  found  what  seemed  to  be  an  attempt  at 
sketching  a  landscape.  It  was  but  a  partial  sketch, 
however,  and  he  was  convinced  that  his  mother  had 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  227 

made  an  attempt  at  drawing  scenery  from  recollection. 
Edward  had  remained  calm  while  reading,  although  he 
realized  the  agony  of  his  mother  while  writing ;"  yet 
with  it  came  the  cheering  thought,  she  has  now  escaped 
from  earth,  and  is  happy. 

Near  the  bottom  of  the  sheet  upon  which  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  had  attempted  to  draw  the  landscape,  Edward 
read :  "  I  have  in  my  mind  a  frightful  vision,  or  remem- 
brance. I  seem  to  see  the  angry  billows  of  the  ocean 
rising  before  me,  and  she  —  she  is  gone,  and  I  —  I  —  I 
am  borne  upon  the  waves  —  I  am  lost — oh,  lam  there 
with  Margaret  where  he  left  me ! " 

The  following  poetry  seemed  to  have  been  written 
about  the  same  time  : 

"  There  was  glory  in  the  sight, 
As  I  saw  it  in  my  dream  — 
I  felt  that  it  was  beautiful, 

Though  I  only  caught  a  gleam. 

"  If  angels  are  as  radiant 
As  she  who  smil'd  on  me, 
Then  I  would  be  an  angel  too, 
And  from  this  darkness  flee. 

"  Fain  would  I  gaze  upon  that  face, 
Where  no  dark  billows  rise ; 
'  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  Heavenly  Grace, 
And  quell  these  heaving  sighs.' 

"  Is  it  of  earth  I  seem  to  dream, 
Or  scenes  beyond  the  skies  ? 
Mcthinks  I  ne'er  shall  solve  the  truth 
Till  this  frail  body  dies." 

This  was  all.  Alas  for  Edward !  Where  was  he 
now  ?  Like  his  mother's  vision,  so  was  he — upon  the 
ocean  waves,  his  mind  tossed  to  and  fro,  without  a 
rudder  or  a  chart. 


228  THE    CUESE   ENTAILED. 

"  O  mystery ! "  said  he,  "  deeper  and  deeper  dost 
thou  grow ; "  and  he  pressed  one  hand  upon  his  throb- 
bing heart,  while  with  the  other  he  shaded  his  eyes,  as 
if  to  shut  out  the  past  and  the  present.  "  And  I  shall 
never  know!"  said  he,  as  he  arose  to  his  feet.  He 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  "  Mother !  mother ! " 
he  exclaimed,  "  why  did  you  not  tell  me  more  ? "  He 
lifted  his  soul  to  God ;  instantly  the  load  was  gone,  and 
his  spirit  was  calm ;  and  he  said,  "  It  is  well."  Then 
came  to  him  the  saying  of  his  mother  —  "  Unless  God 
in  his  mercy  interfere."  His  mother  seemed  to  be  with 
him,  as  when  she  had  spoken  the  words.  His  confi- 
dence in  God  made  him  patient  and  tranquil. 

At  that  instant  he  heard  the  voice  of  Ella.  "  Where 
is  Edward  ?  "  said  she ;  "  I  want  to  tell  him  all  the 
news  I  have  brought  from  Nathan's." 

He  was  soon  by  her  side,  listening  attentively  to  her 
recital  of  the  happy  meeting  of  Joe  and  Nancy. 

"  Le  Rux,  did  you  say?"  asked  Edward. 

"  That  is  the  name  of  Joe's  master,  near  New 
Orleans,"  said  Ella. 

"  And  that  is  the  name  of  my  friend  and  correspon- 
dent at  the  South,"  said  Edward.  "And  his  young 
Master  Frank,  of  whom  you  say  he  spoke,  can  be  no 
other  than  Frank  Le  Rux  —  of  whom  you  have  heard 
me  speak.  God  be  praised  if,  by  his  means,  one  poor 
victim  has  escaped." 

"  Come  down  and  sit  with  us  often,"  said  Mr. 
Erskine,  as  they  took  their  departure.  "  I  do  not  think 
we  shall  very  soon  again  be  interrupted,  in  our  even- 
ing's chat,  by  George  Brownson." 

"  I  am  sure  I  would  be  willing  to  have  him  pass 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  229 

another  evening  with  us,"  said  Ella,  "  if  it  would  re- 
sult in  the  escape  of  another  fugitive." 

As  the  carriage  drove  from  the  house,  a  feeling  of 
loneliness  came  over  the  heart  of  Edward.  He  could 
not  help  thinking  about  Ella — that  she  was  a  dear,  good 
girl,  and  that  she  was  very  dear  to  him.  "  I  love  her," 
thought  he,  "  because  my  mother  did.  I  love  her  as  I 
would  a  sister ; "  and  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  as  he 
thought  of  his  lost  sister  Edith. 

Ella  did  not  even  know  that  there  was  sadness  in  the 
heart  of  Edward,  excepting  for  the  loss  of  his  mother. 
She  knew  that  must  be  deep,  for  she  too  grieved  for  the 
loss  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare. 

"  I  must  do  as  my  mother  did,"  thought  Edward,  as 
he  took  another  paper  from  the  trunk ;  "  I  must  bear 
my  burden  alone."     The  paper  read  thus  : 

"  Would  that  I  could  so  control  my  mind  as  to  wit- 
ness such  beauty,  and  have  such  feelings,  each  hour  of 
my  life  ;  for,  when  I  am  thus,  I  am  lifted  above  sorrow." 

There  was  a  letter  directed  to  himself,  and  he  opened 
it  eagerly.  It  had  evidently  been  written  but  a  few 
weeks,  although  it  bore  no  date.     It  ran  thus  : 

"  Edward,  if  I  should  die  before  you  finish  your 
studies,  I  trust  you  will  not  be  diverted  from  your  course 
in  college,  or  from  pursuing  a  profession.  I  have  perfect 
confidence  that  you  will  judge  and  act  correctly  and 
prudently  in  your  choice  of  a  profession.  You  will  be 
„ without  kindred,  but  you  will  always  have  a  Father  in 
heaven ;  and  your  course,  if  right,  will  secure  you  the 
friendship  and  esteem  of  the  good  and  virtuous. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  that  Ella  is  very  dear  to  me  ; 
that  she  is  a  dear,  good  girl.  She  has  been  as  a  child 
to  me.  You  can  always  confide  in  her  as  a  friend  ;  for, 
20 


230  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

believe  me,  I  have  read  her  very  nature.  Go  to  her  as 
you  would  to  a  sister,  and  open  your  heart  to  her  in 
times  of  trouble.  She  will  sympathize  with,  and  com- 
fort you.     May  God  bless  and  sustain  you  both. 

"  Emily  Le  Clare.'' 

"  Yes,"  thought  Edward,  "  my  mother,  though  de- 
parted, has  awakened  me  to  my  duty,  and  revealed  me 
to  myself.  I  have  accomplished  all  that  is  necessary 
here.  I  must  away  to  other  duties.  But  here  is  a  let- 
ter to  Ella.  Yes,  I  am  without  kindred,  but  she  will 
be  to  me  as  a  relative  —  as  a  sister." 

Instantly  shutting  the  trunk  and  drawer,  and  locking 
the  door,  he  went  to  Mr.  Erskine's  ;  and  we  feel  assured 
that  Ella  was  not  displeased  when  she  saw  him  ap- 
proaching, for  she  opened  the  door,  with  a  sweet,  sym- 
pathetic expression  of  countenance. 

Edward  handed  her  the  letter.  It  was  unsealed,  and 
she  did  not  retire,  but  proceeded  to  read  it  in  his  pres- 
ence. Edward  did  not  scrutinize  her  countenance 
while  she  read,  yet  he  knew  that  she  was  deeply  moved 
and  that  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  Without  speak- 
ing a  word,  she  handed  him  the  letter.  He  read  as 
follows  : 

"  Dear  Ella,  —  I  know  you  love  me,  your  kindness 
fcplls  me  so.  You  are  anxious  about  my  health;  per- 
haps I  may  not  live  long;  if  I  should  not,  then  Edward 
will  be  alone.  I  do  not  mean  that  he  will  be  without 
friends,  for  I  feel  that  he  will  both  merit  and  obtain 
them. 

"  You,  who  have  been  as  a  daughter  to  me,  will  you 
not  be  as  a  sister  to  him?  I  know  that  you  will,  and 
it  comforts  me.     Do  so,  Ella,  and  the  Lord  will  bless 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  231 

you.  Next  to  my  Edward  do  you  rank  in  my  affec- 
tions.    Farewell,  Ella.  Emily  Le  Clare." 

Ella  also  saw  the  tears  in  Edward's  eyes.  After  he 
had  perused  the  letter,  his  glance  met  hers. 

"  Yes,  Ella,"  he  said,  "  I  do  indeed  need  a  friend,  a  coun- 
sellor,"— to  whom  I  can  pour  out  my  whole  heart,  he  was 
going  to  say ;  but  he  checked  himself,  as  he  thought  of 
what  he  must  bear  alone,  and  said — "  a  sister ;  and  I  know 
of  no  one  whom  I  can  regard  as  such  except  yourself." 

Edward  sighed ;  but  Ella  did  not  make  the  mistake 
that  many  young  ladies  are  apt  to,  and  think  that,  be- 
cause Edward  sighed,  he  was  in  love  with  her.  For- 
tunately, she  was  possessed  of  that  rare  quality,  good 
common-sense,  and  was  convinced  that,  if  Edward 
were  about  to  make  love  to  her,  his  lips  would  move. 
She  had  no  brother,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  treat 
Edward  as  such,  and  would  be  willing  to  share  with 
him  everything — joys,  sorrows,  even  to  the  patrimony  of 
her  father,  if  the  latter  should  see  fit  to  bestow  it  upon 
the  noble  young  man,  for  she  had  learned  from  Mrs.  Le 
Clare  that  she  was  not  rich. 

Thus  soliloquized  Ella,  in  her  own  mind,  as  she  sat 
that  evening  with  Edward  and  her  father,  and  heard 
Edward  say,  that  he  "  must  return  to  college  on  the 
next  Wednesday,"  this  being  Saturday. 

Mr.  Erskine  approved  of  this  decision,  and  agreed 
with  Edward,  that  it  was  best  for  Mrs.  "Wise  to  remain 
where  she  was  until  his  return  in  the  fall. 

"  I  hold  a  mortgage  upon  the  real  estate  on  which 
Mrs.  Le  Clare  resided,"  said  Mr.  Camp  to  Mr.  Ersldne, 
as  they  were  standing  in  the  store  of  Mr.   Kent,  in 

S ,  the  day  before  Edward's  departure.    "  I  forebore 

to  close  upon  it,  out  of  respect  to  Mrs.  Le  Clare ;  but  I 


232  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

am  under  the  necessity  of  doing  so  now.  I  can  sell 
the  place  to  George  Brownson,  and  it  will  probably  be 
best  for  me  to  speak  to  the  young  gentleman  about  it. 
He  has  just  informed  me  that  he  leaves  to-morrow." 

Edward  was  standing  at  the  counter,  by  the  side  of 
Ella,  examining  some  goods.  Although  it  had  been 
the  design  of  the  speaker  that  Edward  should  not  hear 
the  conversation,  the  words  fell  directly  upon  his  ear, 
and  he  knew  that  Ella  must  have  heard  them  too  ;  yet 
she  did  not  seem  interested,  but  called  his  attention  to 
the  frontispiece  in  a  book  they  had  been  examining. 
But  the  words  had  thrilled  Edward  like  electricity; 
not  because  he  would  be  a  penniless  orphan,  for  he 
was  now  a  man,  but  because  his  mother's  sufferings 
came  so  vividly  to  his  mind.  He  thought  of  his 
father  —  of  the  dread  mystery.  He  did  not  reply  to 
Ella ;  and,  as  she  raised  her  eyes,  she  beheld  a  pallor 
upon  his  face. 

Edward  turned,  and,  approaching  the  gentleman, 
said :  "  I  should  be  happy  to  understand  the  facts  in  re- 
gard to  the  estate  left  by  my  deceased  mother,  as  she 
did  not  trouble  me  with  them,  during  my  short  visits  at 
home." 

"  Will  you  not  permit  me,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "  to  at- 
tend to  this  matter  during  your  absence  ?  Your  mother 
doubtless  withheld  it  from  you,  that  your  mind  might 
be  kept  easy  while  pursuing  your  studies.  Permit 
me,  therefore,  to  stand  in  her  place,  until  you  return. 
I  think  I  can  arrange  the  affair  satisfactorily  to  all." 

Mr.  Erskine  trembled,  for  he  had  never  seen  Edward 
manifest  so  much  feeling.  He  did  not  reply  to  Mr. 
Erskine,  and  his  agitation  became  every  moment  more 
apparent. 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  233 

"  There  is  a  child  in  distress,"  said  Mr.  Camp,  as  he 
rushed  from  the  room,  and  pursued  his  way  along  the 
street. 

"  It  must  have  been  run  over,"  said  one  fastening  in 
the  same  direction. 

One  person  after  another  ran  hurriedly  by,  each  mak- 
ing some  remark. 

"  Where  is  baby  ?  "  said  a  young  lady  in  full  dress, 
as  she  emerged  from  the  front  door  of  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  houses  in  the  village,  and  near  Mr.  Kent's 
store.  "  Oh !  it 's  a  crazy  man,  in  close  pursuit  of  Mr. 
Brownson,  and  making  a  noise  for  all  the  world  like  a 
crying  baby,"  said  the  lady.  "  Mr.  Brownson  was  just 
coming  to  give  me  a  call,  this  morning,  and  we  were  to 
ride  a  few  miles,"  continued  she,  speaking  to  a  person 
in  the  house. 

True  enough!  For,  as  our  friends  were  looking  in 
the  same  direction  with  the  young  lady  and  numerous 
other  persons,  both  young  and  old,  they  saw,  not  only 
George  Brownson  advancing,  but  the  crazy  man, 
directly  behind  him,  crying  in  such  a  pitiful  manner  as 
to  bring  all  the  mothers  to  their  front  doors. 

"  Oh,  it  is  our  James,"  said  Ella,  as  she  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh,  which  caused  George  to  partially  lift  his 
eyes  towards  her,  just  as  he  was  entering  the  gate  of 
the  young  lady's  residence,  which  she  had  considerately 
opened  for  him,  that  he  might  escape  from  the  maniac. 

"  The  maniac  should  be  secured,  and  not  allowed  to  run 
at  large,"  said  the  father  of  the  young  lady,  as  he  gave  a 
nod  of  recognition  to  Mr.  Erskine.  But  he  looked  quite 
surprised  when  he  saw  James  quietly  approach,  and 
ask  Mr.  Erskine,  if  they  were  ready  for  the  carriage. 
The  gentleman  was  Mr.  Olmstead,  an  intimate  friend 
20* 


234  THE   CUR§E   ENTAILED. 

• 

of  Mr.  Erskine,  and  he  looked  very  much  as  if  he  would 
like  an  explanation. 

"  He  shall  be  duly  informed  concerning  facts,"  said  Mr. 
Erskine,  as  he  seated  himself  in  the  carriage ;  "  though 
I  think  it  will  be  better  to  let  him  alone  to-day. 
He  is  a  friend  of  Nathan's,  although,  perhaps,  not  quite 
as  intimate  as  he  was  before  Nathan  and  Ruth  joined 
the  Hicksites,  who  are  said  to  be  more  thoroughly  anti- 
slavery  than  the  Othodox  Friends.  But  he  will  despise 
George  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  when  he  comes  to 
understand  him.  Mr.  Olmstead  is  rich,"  continued  Mr. 
Erskine  ;  "  but  he  has  no  idea  of  giving  Amelia  to  a 
fortune-hunter,  who  possesses  no  heart.  I  will  do  as  I 
would  be  done  by,  in  such  a  case,  and  save  her,"  said 
Mr.  Erskine  earnestly. 

"  But  why  did  you  not  tell  him  now  ?  "  asked  Ella. 

"  He  is  so  passionate,"  replied  Mr.  Erskine,  "  that  he 
would  have  entered  the  house  immediately,  confronted 
George,  who  would  have  denied  the  facts  and  asserted 
his  innocence  to  Amelia.  She  would,  of  course,  believe 
him  the  victim  of  envy;  would  first  pity,  then  love 
him ;  and,  ten  to  one,  they  would  make  Mr.  Olmstead 
of  the  same  opinion,  and  George  would  win  the  prize. 
Should  opposition  be  made,  she  would  think  her 
father  was  deceived,  that  he  was  prejudiced  and  cruel. 
She  would  imagine  herself  desperately  in  love,  and 
would  suppose  that  she  must  of  necessity  droop  and 
die.  No,  no,"  asserted  Mr.  Erskine,  "  the  affair  must 
be  managed  wiser  than  that  Let  father  and  daughter 
have  the  proof  simultaneously  with  the  statement,  and 
they  will  both  despise  George  alike." 

"  I  thank  you,  James,  for  crying  baby,"  said  Ella. 

"James  has  acted  hia  part  well,"  responded  Edward. 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  235 

Ella  continued  :  "  I  believe,  James,  that  you  have  de- 
terred George  from  coming  to   C ;  he  dreads  to 

make  you  cry." 

"  He  would  not  dare  come  to  attend  his  mother's 
funeral,"  said  James,  "  if  she  should  die,  unless  they 
were  to  bury  her  in  the  night,  and  not  let  me  know 
anything  about  it.  I  hope  I  ain't  wicked,  but  I  fairly 
hate  the  sight  of  him." 

"  His  actions  I  hate,"  said  Ella,  "  for  they  are  mean 
and  wicked,  and  it  is  right  to  hate  them.  I  would  not 
hate  George,  if  he  were  honorable  and  worthy." 

"  I  did  n't  think  about  crying,"  said  James,  "until  I 
saw  George  crossing  the  street,  strutting  as  if  he  was 
somebody,  and  telling  a  young  gentleman  that  he  was 
going  to  call  upon  Miss  Amelia  Olmstead.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  poor  slave  woman  and  her  babe,  and 
I  could  n't  help  crying,  of  course.  He  started,  as  if  he 
had  got  among  the  Indians.  Oh,  you  should  have  seen 
him,  Miss  Ella !  He  turned  and  started  to  run,  but  I 
only  cried  the  harder,  and  ran  after  him ;  once,  when  I 
was  almost  to  him,  he  kinder  kicked  back  spitefully, 
and  then  I  yelled  dreadfully.  It  was  right  before  a 
house,  where  some  young  ladies  were  standing  at  the 
window,  and  they  giggled  right  out.  He  dropped  his 
head,  and  I  believe  he  swore." 

"  And  he  is  preparing  for  the  ministry!"  said  Ella. 

"  If  he  ever  preaches,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "  may  the 
Lord  have  mercy  upon  his  hearers." 

"  And  enlighten  them  by  his  Spirit,"  said  Edward ; 
and  they  all  laughed  at  the  capers  of  their  Union-saving 
theologian. 

"  I  will  look  among  my  mother's  papers,"  thought 
Edward  after  his  return  home.     "  Perhaps  I  may  get 


236  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

some  clue  to  this  mortgage  of  Mr.  Camp's."  He  pro- 
ceeded accordingly,  and  found  the  following : 

"  I  never  received  a  deed  of  the  house  and  lot  where 
we  reside.  Surely  he  must  have  intended  to  return,  or 
he  would  have  given  jne  that  which  would  enable  me 
to  defend  it,  or,  if  necessary,  to  sell  it.  Oh,  how  dark 
has  he  made  everything  to  me.  Can  it  be  that  he  still 
lives  ?  Oh,  the  mystery!  And  then,  to  think  that  I 
dare  not  even  inquire.  When  I  am  gone,  how  dark 
will  it  be  to  Edward.  Oh !  how  it  would  comfort  me 
if  I  could  tell  him  all :  but  it  would  be  madness." 

"  Oh  no,  mother,"  said  the  young  man,  aloud,  seem- 
ing to  forget  that  she  was  not  with  him. 

But  his  anguish  passed,  and  he  was  about  closing 
the  drawer,  when  he  thought  of  the  box  containing  the 
jewels.  "  I  would  like  to  look  at  them,"  thought  he, 
"  for  she  told  me  that,  when  she  wore  them,  she  was 
happy."  Taking  the  box,  he  placed  it  on  the  table,  and 
commenced  an  examination  of  the  jewels.  "  They  are 
valuable,"  thought  he,  "  and  well  do  I  remember  her 
injunction  concerning  them."  There  was  with  them  a 
ladies'  French  gold  watch,  but  Edward  could  not  judge 
of  its  value.  It  was  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  fine  paper, 
and  labelled  "  Edward  Le  Clare."  He  was  about 
replacing  the  valuables,  when  he  discovered  a  paper  in 
the  box.  It  was  a  bill  of  the  articles,  amounting  in  all 
to  five  thousand  francs ;  but  two  things  were  missing,  a 
gentleman's  gold  repeater,  and  a  ring.  But  what  was 
the  name  of  the  purchaser  of  the  articles  ?  It  had 
been,  he  thought,  intentionally  erased,  so  that  he  could 
not  read  it ;  but  he  was  convinced  it  was  not  Le  Clare. 

He  replaced  the  jewels,  and,  putting  the  box  in  its 
drawer,  said  aloud  :  "  This  is  terrible !     I  am  unnerved. 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  237 

Deeper  and  deeper  becomes  this  mystery.  Let  me  flee 
from  this  place,  lest  I  be  no  more  myself.  I  am  seeking 
to  know  what  I  cannot,  'unless  God  in  his  mercy 
interfere.'  And  yet,  did  not  my  mother  bid  me  take 
this  course  ?  But  I  feel  that  the  hour  has  not  come. 
I  must  away,  and  do  her  bidding.  Be  still,  O  my  soul! 
It  is  enough,  that  my  mother  rests  in  heaven,  and  will 
be  my  guardian-spirit  until  I  join  her.  There  shall  I 
also  be  at  rest ;  there  all  will  be  explained ;  for  there 
shall  I  meet,  not  only  her  who  has  suffered,  but  him  — 
yes,  whether  he  be  guilty  or  not,  there  shall  I  meet  my 
father."  These  were  the  thoughts  of  Edward.  He 
remained  a  few  minutes,  as  if  communing  with  him- 
self, then  retired  to  rest. 

In  the  morning,  Edward's  countenance  was  calm,  as 
he  closed  the  door  of  what  he  now  felt  was  a  sanc- 
tuary, whither  he  had  repaired  to  commune  with  her 
who  was  now  an  angel  in  heaven,  and  also  with  his 
God. 

As  the  carriage  of  Mr.  Erskine,  which  was  to  con- 
vey Edward  to  the  depot,  drove  to  the  door,  he  was 
much  pleased  to  see  Ella  and  her  father  within. 

"  We  could  not  afford  to  lose  your  society  during  a 
three  hour's  drive,"  said  Mr.  Erskine.  But  the  fact  was, 
Ella  had  no  idea  of  letting  Edward  go  away  melancholy. 
It  was  a  fine  morning,  and  they  could  enjoy  the  ride. 

After  Edward  had  taken  an  affectionate  leave  of  Mrs. 
Wise  and  Richard,  he  and  his  companions  were  soon 
on  their  way. 

James  was  in  fine  spirits.  He  was  sure  he  had 
never  seen  any  gentleman  whom  he  was  so  willing  to 
oblige  as  Edward,- for  he  was  somebody,  and  would 
make  a  great  and  good  man.     James  even  went  so  far 


238  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

as  to  say  (though  he  only  said  this  to  Laura)  that  "he 
would  have  no  objection  to  staying  with  Mr.  Erskine, 
if  Edward  should  marry  Ella,  and  come  into  possession 
of  the  farm." 

Ella  had  a  desire  to  purchase  a  gift  for  Edward, — 
which,  by  the  way,  was  no  other  than  a  small  pocket 

Bible, —  and,    upon   arriving  at  S ,  they   entered 

Mr.  Kent's  store. 

"  George  Brownson  is  about  leaving  us,"  said  Mr. 
Kent.  "  I  am  told  that  he  has  given  up  the  idea  of 
studying  theology,  and  will  turn  his  attention  to  law. 
He  is  rather  unpopular  here,  just  now.  Mr.  Olmstead, 
with  Amelia,  visited  at  Nathan's  yesterday  afternoon, 
and  Mr.  O.  looked  anything  but  pleasant  when  they 
returned.  George  called  there  last  evening,  bul  his 
visit  was  short,  for  I  met  him  about  eight,  walking  very 
fast,  with  his  head  down  so  low  that  he  did  not  notice 
me.  To-day,  he  has  announced  his  intention  of  leaving 
the  place." 

Mr.  Kent  had  scarcely  ceased  speaking,  when  their 
ears  were  assailed  by  the  cry  of  a  child.  It  screamed 
as  though  pricked  by  a  pin.  All  looked  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  door,  as  if  expecting  to  discover  the  little 
sufferer,  when  James,  who  stood  at  the  door,  pointed 
significantly  with  his  finger,  and  said :  "  Don't  be 
alarmed,  my  friends!  There  is  no  child  dying;  but 
there  goes  our  Union-saving  kidnapper,  and  he  really 
looks  savage,  like  a  hound  about  to  bite,  though  he  dare 
not  even  bark  where  I  am."  Our  young  friends  were 
at  the  counter ;  but  Mr.  Erskine  and  Mr.  Kent  indulged 
in  quite  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  door.  They  were  about 
entering  the  carriage,  when  the  junior  clerk  came  up, 


THE  MYSTERY  DEEPENS.  239 

and  handed  them  a  placard,  and  Mr.  Erskine  read  it 
aloud : 

"NOTICE. 
"Let  all   pro-slavery  men   and   slave-catchers   take   courage,  as  the 
efficient  services  of  young  Rev.  George  Brownson,  now  prosecuting  his 

theological  studies  in  S ,  can  be  secured  on  very  reasonable  terms.    It 

is  now  hoped  to  save  the  Union,  and  effectually  put  a  stop  to  the  escape  of 
all  fugitives,  who  may  attempt  to  secure  their  freedom  by  the  Underground 

Railroad.     He  only  demands  ten  dollars  for  riding  from  S to  C , 

with  the  slave-catchers,  to  put  them  on  the  track  of  the  fugitives,  provided 
it  can  be  done  in  the  night,  as  at  that  time  he  will  not  be  so  likely  to  be 
seen,  and  he  is  desirous  of  not  injuring  his  religious  reputation ;  yet  he 
will  secretly  do  all  in  his  power  to  retake  and  re-enslave  any  one  who  has 
obtained  freedom  by  fleeing  from  slavery,  at  an  average  of  ten  dollars  per 
head." 

"  I  shall  have  no  one  to  keep  me  advised  of  the  state 

of  things  in  C ,"  said  Edward,  after  he  had  shaken 

hands  with  Mr.  Erskine,  and  was  taking  leave  of  Ella, 
"  unless  you  can  find  it  convenient  to  devote  to  me  an 
hour  occasionally." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Ella,  "  I  shall  find  a  pleasure  in 
doing  so."  / 

James — whom  the  reader  has  by  this  time  dis- 
covered was  greatly  interested  in  the  welfare  of  Ella 
and  Edward  —  thought  there  was  something  in  their 
looks,  indicating  that  they  were  rather  agitated. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Erskine  did  not  discover  it;  at  any  rate, 
he  did  not  wait  for  Ella  to  say  she  would  be  lonely, 
for  he  immediately  handed  her  to  the  carriage ;  and,  if 
there  was  a  tear  in  her  eye,  he  was  too  careless  to 
notice  it,  for  he  drew  from  his  pocket  one  of  the  afore- 
said placards,  which  he  said  was  to  be  circulated  in 
C . 

Unfortunately  for  Ella,  she  stooped  and  picked  up 
another  paper  which  fell  from  her  father's  pocket.    This 


240  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

was  no  other  than  a  note  from  Edward  to  Mr.  Erskine, 
given  on  parting.  Ella  read  it,  and  was  deeply  af- 
fected.    Mr.  Erskine  also  took  it,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  Sir, —  I  have  examined  the  papers  of  my  deceased 
mother,  and  find  that  she  herself  was  utterly  ignorant 
of  the  manner  in  which  she  held  the  property,  upon 
which  we  have  resided  since  my  childhood.  Perhaps 
you  are  not  aware  that  my  father  departed  at  that 
•period,  and  that  all  the  intelligence  my  mother  ever  re- 
ceived from  him  afterwards,  was,  that  he  was  about  to 
sail  for  France. 

"  I  think  my  mother  was  not  aware  of  the  mortgage 
to  Mr.  Camp,  as  she  never  mentioned  it  to  me,  and  I 
find  nothing  among  her  papers  relating  to  it,  except  a 
regret  that  the  estate  had  not  been  left  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  she  could  sell,  or  defend  it,  if  necessary.  The 
place  is  endeared  to  me  by  all  the  associations  of  my 
childhood,  and  by  fond  remembrances  of  the  only 
earthly  relative  I  ever  knew.  But  it  is  right  that  it 
should  go,  and  I  trust  you  will  not  burthen  yourself 
with  it,  either  pecuniarily  or  in  any  other  way. 

"  Edward  Le  Clare." 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "that  I  will  buy  the 
place  for  you,  Ella.  If  Mr.  Camp  should  foreclose  the 
mortgage,  Edward  could  save  nothing  from  it.  But  it 
is  really  worth  several  hundred  dollars  more  than  the 
claims  against  it.  So  I  think  I  shall  take  it,  and  deed 
it  to  you." 

Ella  thought  her  father  looked  rather  archly  at  her, 
but  she  only  blushed  a  little,  and  he  continued  : 

"I  judge  you  never  looked  so  well  as  you  did  when 
you  were  acting  the  part  of  the  fugitive.  I  mean, 
when  you  were  forcibly  seized,  and  about  to  be  kid- 


THE   MYSTERY   DEEPENS.  241 

napped ;  for  James  says  that  you  electrified,  not  only 
George,  but  Edward."       * 

Ella  had  had  time  to  rally ;  and  she  said,  "  My 
father  need  only  fulfil,  on  his  part,  his  own  kind  inten- 
tions, and  I  will  answer  for  a  good  understanding 
between  myself  and  Mr.  Le  Clare." 

"  There  is  but  little  danger  of  disagreement  between 
two  persons  with  so  strong  an  affinity,"  said  Mr.  Ers- 
kine.  "  But  perhaps  you  would  rather  George  Brown- 
son  would  have  the  place,, after  all.  I  think  you  might 
persuade  him  to  remain  and  purchase  it." 

"  His  prospects  are  flattering,  I  confess,"  said  Ella. 
"  He  has  a  lucrative  profession,  as  any  one  can  see  by 
this  placard  ;  and,  while  our  country  is  governed,  as  it 
now  is,  by  the  slave  oligarchy,,  he  doubtless  stands  as 
good  a  chance  for  the  Presidency  of  the  United  States 
as  any  one,  for  he  has  the  most  essential  qualifications. 
He  not  only  vindicates  slavery  and  the  Fugitive  Bill, 
but  he-  has  actually  performed,  for  the  preservation  of 
this  \  glorious  Union,'  crimes  according  to  the  very 
letter  of  the  bill,  as  described  in  this  notice,  myself 
being  the  witness.  But  I  have  no  particular  predilec- 
tion in  favor  of  presidential  candidates,  just  at  the 
present  moment." 

"  Will  you  stop  at  Mr.  Camp's,  as  we  go  home,  and 
become  the  owner  of  the  Le  Clare  estate  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Erskine. 

To  this  last  proposition  Ella  assented.  "  To-mor- 
row," said  Ella,  as  her  father  handed  her  the  deed,  "  I 
will  ride  over,  and  give  my  orders  to  Richard." 

"  We  shall,  no  doubt,  see  many  improvements  before 
Edward  returns,"  said  Mr.  Erskine ;  "  and,  now  I  think 
21 


242  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

of  it,  I  would  say,  that  you  may  draw  upon  me,  to  the 
amount  of  one  hundred  dollars,  previous  to  that  time." 

Ella  returned  home  quite  happy,  devising  ways  and 
means  to  improve  the  property  her  father  had  so  kindly 
bestowed  upon  her.  "  It  will  help  me,"  thought  she, 
"  to  pass  many  pleasant  hours,  which  might  perhaps 
otherwise  hang  heavily,  as  I  have  lost  the  dear  friend 
with  whom  that  place  will  ever  be  associated." 

Richard  received  his  orders  in  due  time,  and  was 
elated  at  the  idea  of  improving  the  yard,  garden,  and 
all  the  other  appurtenances.  He  performed  his  labor  to 
the  perfect  satisfaction  of  Ella  and  her  father,  who  oc- 
casionally rode  over  to  inspect  Richard's  operations. 

Ella  longed  to  write  to  Edward  of  her  father's  liber- 
ality ;  but  it  was  too  soon.  She  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  wait  a  little  longer,  when  an  unexpected  event 
seemed  to  demand  that  she  must  do  what  she  so  much 
desired,  and  she  penned  him  a  letter,  which  will  appear 
in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A    SUDDEN    AND    AWFUL    DEATH. 

"  Well,  dear  Edward,  I  was  to  keep  you  advised  of 

the  occurrences  in  C .     Little  did  I  expect  to  have 

startling  news  to  communicate.  But  what  know  we 
of  the  future  ?  George  Brownson  went  to  Kentucky, 
last  week,  to  study  law.     He  departed  without  even 

coming  to  C ,  except  to  ride  over  one  evening,  to 

say  '  good  bye '  to  his  parents.  No  one  else  was  hon- 
ored even  with  a  call. 

"  You  were  doubtless  informed,  while  in  C ,  that 

Mr.  Brownson  had  been  notified,  that  his  services  as  a 
preacher  would  not  be  required  any  longer  by  his 
church.  Last  Sabbath  was  the  day  chosen  by  him  to 
preach  his  farewell  discourse.  There  was  a  general 
attendance,  and  the  seats,  which  had  been  so  long 
vacated,  were  again  filled  with  their  former  occupants. 
It  seems  he  had  an  idea  of  making  the  occasion  quite 
practical  to  the  people ;  and  he  took  for  his  text  the 
passage,  '  Cry  aloud  and  spare  not ;  lift  up  thy  voice 
like  a  trumpet ; '  and,  from  this,  he  went  on  to  denounce 
anti-slavery  principles  and  all  anti-slavery  movements. 
These  were  all  the  works  of  the  Adversary  of  souls, 
who  had  made  use  of  unprincipled  men  and  Infidels, 
and,  through  them,  originated  a  fanaticism,  which  had 
swept  through  the  land,  spreading  desolation  and  strife 
all  over  our  once  happy  country.     And,  not  content 

(243) 


1*44  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

with  that,  it  had  dared  to  enter  into  the  stronghold  of 
the  Church,  taking  both  old  and  young,  male  and 
female,  from  its  ranks,  until  the  Church  was  tottering. 
Many  of  the  pillars  upon  which  the  spiritual  Zion  had 
stood  were  shattered,  and  now  it  must  fall,  for  they 
were  about  to  remove  the  very  corner-stone.  He  con- 
tinued :  '  I  have  been  a  faithful  minister  of  the  gospel, 

for  the  last  thirty  years,  in  C ;  but  Infidelity  has 

crept  in  and  sown  tares,  and  men  are  now  trampling 
upon  all  laws,  human  and  divine.  There  are  those  who 
dare  to  contradict,  not  only  me,  but  even  the  apostles 
and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  declare  that  they  will  not 
obey  the  magistrates  of  the  land,  in  carrying  out  the  holy 
Fugitive  Law.  And  it  is  by  such  men  that  I  am  about 
to  be  removed  from  the  sacred  desk.  It  is  for  following 
in  the  footsteps  of  Christ  and  his  holy  apostles,  that  my 
son  George,  a  servant  of  the  living  God,  about  to 
devote  himself,  soul  and  body,  to  the  holy  ministry,  has 
been  persecuted,  reviled,  spit  upon,  and,  I  can  almost 
say,  crucified,  and  forced  to  leave  his  home,  his  birth- 
place, his  aged  parents,  yea,  even  the  North,  and  seek 
a  Southern  home.  But  there,  I  trust,  he  will  be  received 
as  the  child  of  their  adoption.  And  those  who  have 
treated  him  thus  ought  to  blush  for  shame. 

" '  There  is  one  in  this  house,'  he  said  vehemently, 
1  who  has  sought  to  work  that  son's  destruction,  by  her 
crafty  wiles  —  one  that  he  would  fain  have  taken  to  his 
bosom ! ' 

"  By  this  time,  many  in  1he  house,  unable  to  conceal 
their  laughter,  had  lowered  their  faces. 

" '  You  may  well,'  he  continued,  '  hide  your  faces,  and 
she  among  the  rest.  It  is  to  you  I  am  to  "  cry  aloud, 
and  spare  not,"  and  "  lift  up  my  voice  like  a  trumpet." 


DEATH    OF   MB.  BROWNSON*.  l!4o 

"  At  this  instant,  Edward,  I  raised  my  head ;  but,  as 
I  thought  of  George,  and  how  he  looked,  on  the  night 
of  the  escape  of  the  fugitive,  when  he  caught  me,  I 
could  not  control  myself  any  longer.  I  met  the  old 
man's  eyes,  as  he  fixed  them  full  upon  me,  with  a  sud- 
den burst  of  laughter. 

"  And  now,  forth  came  the  dreadful  '  Woe !  woe ! 
woe ! '  while  his  fists  were  actually  clenched,  and  he 
glared  horribly  at  me.  His  appearance  was  so  alarm- 
ing and  disgusting,  that  I,  with  my  father  and  many 
others,  arose  to  leave  the  house.  I  had  not  reached  the 
door,  when  I  heard  a  heavy  fall ;  and  I  verily  thought 
Mr.  Brownson  had  leaped  from  the  pulpit  after  me ; 
but,  as  I  turned  to  look  back,  two  men  entered  the  pul- 
pit, and  raised  him  from  the  floor.  Mr.  Brownson  was 
dead !  Dr.  Freeman  thinks  his  death  was  caused  by 
an  internal  rupture,  resulting  from  great  excitement. 
And  now,  Edward,  I  have  told  you  the  horrid  news,  for 
such  it  certainly  is !  Poor  Mrs.  Brownson  is  really  to 
be  pitied.  She  looked  at  us  as  if  she  felt  we  were 
murderers,  and  ought  to  be  tried,  condemned,  and  ex- 
ecuted. My  father  called  upon  her  to  offer  kindness 
and  assistance,  but  it  was  rejected.  He  thinks  that  if 
there  had  been  pro-slavery  men  enough  in  town  to 
have  buried  the  deceased  clergyman,  the  abolitionists 
would  have  been  requested  to  leave. 

"  Father  Perkins  preached  the  funeral  sermon.  His 
text  was,  '  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.' 
Here  we  all  had  to  take  it  again,  although  he  was  not 
so  personal  —  perhaps  he  was  restrained  somewhat 
through  fear  of  a  like  fate. 

"  Dr.  Freeman  says,  that  Mrs.  Brownson  was  a  very 
smart,  intelligent  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  a  re- 
21* 


246  THE    CUBSS    ENTAILED. 

spectable  clergyman  in  New  England ;  that  her  father 
was  a  denouncer  of  slavery,  and  that,  before  her  mar- 
riage, he  had  often  heard  her  speak  in  strong  terms 
against  the  injustice  and  cruelty  of  the  infernal  institu- 
tion. But  marriage  with  him  crushed  her.  Edward,  I 
don't  believe  I  shall  ever  suffer  any  man  to  do  my 
thinking  for  me,  as  I  am  convinced  that  I  will  have  to 
stand  responsible  for  my  own  acts.  Ella." 

Ella's  letter  was  a  long  one,  though  she  had  not  yet 
told  Edward  about  her  new  estate.  She  almost  decided 
to  take  him  by  surprise  on  his  return.  At  any  rate,  she 
would  wait  awhile. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 


EVENTS    AT    THE    SOUTH. 


If  Frank  Le  Rux's  father  had  indeed  been  attacked 
by  cholera,  it  was  not  cholera  any  longer ;  for  it  was 
now  obvious  that  he  was  suffering  under  a  fever. 
He  was  at  times  delirious,  and  talked  of  matters  which 
Emily  did  not  understand.  Much  of  Frank's  time  was 
required  by  other  duties.  Some  eight  or  ten  slaves  had 
died  upon  the  other  plantation;  but,  among  the  few 
whose  business  it  was  to  attend  to  the  fruit  culture 
and  to  a  large  garden  attached  to  the  slave  quarters,  the 
disease  had  not  spread. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux,  who  kept  up  her  lamentations  in  re- 
gard to  the  loss  of  the  slaves,  was  of  little  or  no  assist- 
ance, and  grew  every  day  more  harsh  towards  Dinah 
and  the  slaves  employed  in  the  house. 

Dinah  was  faithful  to  assist  Miss  Emily,  but  she 
could  hardly  touch  a  chair  before  her  head  was  bowed 
down,  and  she  was  fast  asleep. 

Emily's  father  sometimes  came  in  to  look  at  his 
brother;  but  the  only  sign  of  recognition  which  he 
could  obtain,  was  a  shake  of  the  head  and  a  pressure 
with  his  finger  on  the  lips,  as  if  to  indicate  silence. 

This,  to  Emily,  was  conclusive  evidence,  added  to 
what  she  had  heard  her  uncle  say  at  different  times,  that 
there  was  a  secret  between  him  and  her  father,  which 
one  or  both  were  unwilling  should  be  revealed. 

She  was  sitting  by  the  bedside  of  her  uncle,  one  even- 

(247) 


248  THE    CUBSE    ENTAILED. 

ing,  when  she  heard  her  aunt  scolding  Dinah  severely, 
and  even  threatening  her  with  the  whip,  if  she  did  not 
pay  better  attention  to  her  master.  "  I  will  call  Dinah," 
thought  Emily,  "  and  retire  for  a  short  time,  until  my 
aunt  is  asleep,  and  then  send  her  to  my  room ;  for  she 
is  evidently  too  feeble  to  sit  up."  Dinah  accordingly 
camex 

"  You  may  take  my  place,"  said  Emily,  "  and  I  will 
rest  awhile." 

Dinah  seated  herself,  telling  Emily  that  she  "  could 
do  berry  well  wid  mas'r." 

Emily  entered  an  adjoining  room,  leaving  the  door 
ajar;  threw  herself  upon  a  sofa,  and,  contrary  to  her 
intention,  slept.  She  was  aroused,  by  hearing  her  uncle 
making  a  strange  noise.  Upon  going  to  the  room,  she 
found  Dinah,  with  her  head  bowed  low,  and  her  body 
partially  settled  down  in  her  chair.  After  attending  to 
the  wants  of  her  uncle,  she  spoke  to  Dinah ;  but,  receiv- 
ing no  answer,  took  hold  of  her  arm,  and  found  it 
rigid. 

"  She  is  dead ! "  said  Emily.  "  Her  prayer  is  heard, 
her  troubles  are  over."  Emily  proceeded  directly  to  in- 
form Frank,  who  could  not  help  weeping,  though 
Emily's  feelings  were  those  of  joy. 

They  did  not  tell  Mrs.  Le  Rux  until  the  next  morn- 
ing. "  You  speak  of  it,  Emily,"  said  she,  "  as  though 
you  thought  it  a  fine  thing  to  have  Dinah  die." 

"  I  really  cannot  help  praising  the  Lord,"  replied 
Emily. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  by  talking  so,  Emily?" 
said  her  aunt.  "  Dinah  ought  to  have  lived  several 
years  longer,  and  done  a  great  deal  of  hard  work  yet. 
She  's  only  about  seventy-five  years  old ;  besides,  at 


EVENTS    AT    THE    SOUTH.  2-19 

this  rate,  we  will  soon  be  beggars.  Only  think  what 
a  loss  we  have  met  with  !  — ten  have  died  on  the  other 
plantation,  and  then  Julia,  Bill,  and  Dinah  here." 

"  I  really  loved  Dinah,"  said  Emily  ;  "  but  I  am  not 
at  all  sorry  she  is  dead.  She  has  been  praying  that 
she  might  die  this  long  time.  Do  many  of  the  slaves 
pray  that  they  may  die,  aunt  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  do,"  said  her  aunt.  "  I 
did  not  know  that  they  prayed  at  all  —  they  ought  to 
be  whipped,  if  they  do." 

"  Whipped  for  praying,  aunt  ?  Why,  you  are  getting 
to  be  a  real  Infidel,"  said  Emily. 

"  I  don't  know  how  they  learned  to  pray,"  said  Mrs. 
Le  Rux,  without  seeming  to  notice  Emily's  remark. 
"  I  am  sure  I  never  taught  them ;  and,  then,  to  have 
them  pray  to  die  —  that  is  real  awful !  " 

"  I  expect,"  said  Emily,  "  that  the  Lord  sends  the 
Spirit  of  Truth,  as  light  into  their  hearts,  to  draw  their 
minds  to  a  thoughtfulness  of  what  they  are  ;  and  then 
sends  the  Holy  Spirit  to  witness  with  their  spirits,  and 
they  feel  their  hearts  drawn  out  towards  him.  Some- 
times they  hear  something  said  about  God,  and  they 
think  he  is  a  good  being,  and,  of  course,  they  learn  to 
supplicate  him  in  their  distresses.  If  one  of  their 
number  die,  they  think  he  or  she  is  out  of  misery ; 
and,  suffering  as  the  slaves  do,  I  suppose  they  think  of 
little  else  than  escaping  from  it.  But  I  don't  know 
how  it  is,  though  I  have  pondered  upon  it  a  great  deal. 
What  do  you  think,  Frank  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  they  ever  get  any  just  idea  of  God  at  all," 
replied  Frank,  "for  they  hear  so  much  said  of  him 
that  is  evil,  and  that  would  have  a  tendency  to  pre- 
judice their  minds  against  him ;  such  stories  as  that 


250  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

God  will  send  them  to  hell,  if  they  do  not  mind  their 
masters ;  and  then,  they  hear  their  masters,  and  over- 
seers, and  sometimes  their  mistresses,  calling  upon  God 
to  'damn  the  niggers.'  They  soon  get  the  idea  that 
the  white  folks  are  as  wicked  as  they  are.  But  I  think 
the  slaves  stand  a  better  chance,  in  the  next  life,  than 
do  their  masters." 

"  Dinah  knew  a  great  deal  about  God,"  said  Emily, 
"  and  prayed  to  him  very  often,  and  most  devoutly." 

"  And  Dinah  taught  me  to  pray,"  said  Frank. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  looked  surprised,  but  said  nothing. 

"  And  I  loved  her,"  continued  Emily,  "  and  always 
tried  to  do  her  good ;  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  I  shall 
have  to  meet  her  when  I  die." 

"  We  must  have  Dinah  buried  decently,"  said  Frank 
to  Emily,  as  they  left  the  room.  "  I  will  go  down  to 
the  quarters  and  make  preparations,  and  will  come 
with  the  men  myself,  to  take  the  body." 

In  less  than  an  hour  Frank  appeared,  attended  by 
two  of  the  slaves,  bearing  a  coffin  made  of  plain  boards. 
Emily  opened  the  door  of  a  small  room,#  leading  out 
upon  the  back  veranda,  and  disclosed  the  body  of 
Dinah,  wrapped  in  a  white  sheet,  with  a  muslin  hand- 
kerchief bound  around  the  head.  The  body  was  soon 
deposited  in  the  coffin,  and  Frank  and  the  men  bore  it 
away. 

During  all  this  time  Mrs.  Le  Rux  did  not  make  her 
appearance. 

"  I  have  a  secret  to  tell  you,  cousin,"  said  Frank, 
to  Emily  upon  his  return  from  the  burial  of  Dinah. 
"  I  suppose  Joe  left  last  night.  He  will  probably 
escape,  unless  taken  up  and  lodged  in  jail.  I  was 
really  sorry  to  lose  him  just  now ;  but  he  has  had  a 


EVENTS  AT  THE  SOUTH.  251 

settled  determination  to  run  away  since  his  whipping, 
and  now  is  a  most  excellent  time  for  him — my  father 
being  sick,  and  no  overseer  being  about  the  house,  or 
at  the  quarters.  When  the  thing  comes  out,  we  must 
meet  it  in  the  right  way." 

"  I  can  usually  silence  my  aunt,"  said  Emily,  "  by 
meeting  her  with  truth.  I  don't  think  it  goes  to  the 
heart,  so  as  to  bring  conviction  to  her  mind,  but  it 
silences  her." 

"  I  believe  my  brother  is  convalescing,"  said  Emily's 
father  to  her,  as  he  lifted  his  eyes  from  a  letter,  which 
he  had  just  been  superscribing,  and  which  she  thought 
he  had  done  with  a  trembling  hand. 

"  Dr.  Willis  says,"  replied  Emily,  "  that,  if  uncle 
should  not  have  a  relapse  —  which  depends  upon  his 
being  kept  quiet,  and  having  good  care — he  will  prob- 
ably be  about  soon.  Yet  the  doctor  fears  uncle's  con- 
stitution is  seriously  impaired." 

Her  father  was  silent  a  minute,  and  then  said :  "  I 
have  been  writing  to  Mr.  Le  Roy.  The  subject  of  the 
correspondence  requires  my  absence  for  a  few  days,  or, 
it  may  be,  weeks ;  and  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of 
leaving  for  the  North  in  the  morning,  where  I  have 
some  unsettled  business,  which  demands  my  immediate 
attention." 

Emily  was  surprised,  and  expressed  her  fear  as  to 
her  father's  health. 

"  It  will  doubtless  improve  my  health,"  was  the  re- 
sponse; "  besides,  I  have  found  myself  growing  stronger 
every  day  since  I  made  up  my  mind  upon  the  subject." 

Emily  thought  he  did  indeed  look  more  cheerful,  and 
as  if  some  load  were  removed  from  his  mind,  although 
he  wan  evidently  weak. 


252  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

She  was  about  to  inquire  whether  she  might  not 
accompany  him,  when  he  said :  "  Nothing  could  be 
more  agreeable  than  your  company  ;  in  fact,  it  grieves 
me  to  be  separated  from  you  at  all ;  but,  in  this  case,  I 
must  submit,  and  just  now  your  presence  is  needed 
here.  You  cannot  leave  the  sick  room  of  your  uncle. 
We  owe  him  too  much,  for  the  kindness  he  has  bestowed 
upon  us,  to  suffer  him  to  need  care  for  one  moment.  It 
is  also  of  the  utmost  importance  to  us  that  he  recovers 
his  health.  It  is  no  longer  of  any  use  for  me  to 
attempt  to  conceal  from  you,  that  we  are  dependent 
upon  my  brother's  hospitality.  You  may  perhaps  won- 
der at  this,  after  seeing  so  much  of  'high  life'  during 
our  residence  in  France.  It  was  my  extravagant 
expenditure,  at  that  period,  which  ruined  me. 

"  There  is  another  thing,  Emily,"  continued  he, 
"which,  however  humiliating,  I  am  in  duty  bound  to 
acknowledge  —  and  it  is,  that  I  have  lacked  wisdom  in 
my  past  life,  and,  as  I  said  before,  have  expended  too 
much  for  purposes  which  will  only  embitter  my  remain- 
ing days,  by  making  me  a  bankrupt.  I  am  forced  to 
this  plainness,  Emily,  although  I  had  hoped  to  escape 
it.  The  acts  of  my  past  life  have  sadly  weighed  me 
down.  Since  my  return  to  this  country,  everything 
wears  a  different  aspect.  /  hate  slavery  !  I  know,  bet- 
ter than  you  can  conceive,  the  wrongs  it  entails,  even 
from  generation  to  generation.  I  would  sooner  bear 
the  burden  of  the  oppressed — I  would  sooner  be  a 
slave  —  than  carry  the  remorse  of  the  slavholder,  after 
he  becomes  convinced  of  his  guilt,  and  is  led  to  look 
about  him,  and  behold  the  blighting  effect  of  the  system 
upon  him  and  his.  For  it  shuts  him  out  of  heaven ;  it 
places  an  insurmountable  barrier  between  him  and  his 


EVENTS    AT    THE    SOUTH. 

God,  and  brings  a  canker  to  the  heart.  There  is  not  a 
slaveholder  in  the  whole  Sonth,  with  an  unseared  con- 
science, who  would  not  be  stricken  in  view  of  his  guilt, 
could  he  see  God  as  he  really  is.  But,  alas  !  they  are 
blinded.  They  have  a  God  of  their  own  imagining, 
whom  they  think  is  so  like  themselves,  that  he  is  even 
pleased  with  their  unholy  acts  —  that  he  sanctions 
American  slavery.  Oh!  Emily,"  continued  he,  "what 
will  be  their  feelings,  when  they  are  awakened  to  a  full 
sense  of  their  guilt,  and  find  they  have  no  God? — that 
the  God  of  justice,  of  mercy,  of  truth,  and  of  love,  is 
against  them,  and  he  the  only  being  who  can  save  ?  — 
that  that  God  who  made  of  one  blood  all  nations,  and 
who  hateth  oppression,  holds  them  in  derision  ?  They 
must  go  down,  down,  down,  leaving  those  who  come 
after  them  to  follow  in  their  train.  Yes,  they  must  go 
where  there  is  '  weeping  and  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth,'  '  without  one  drop  of  water  to  cool  their  parched 
tongues;'  while  they  behold  the  poor  downtrodden 
slaves  in  Abraham's  bosom.  Emily,  if  this  is  not  their 
end,  then  there  is  no  devil,  no  hell,  and  death  is  an 
eternal  sleep." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  much  agitated  by  intense  interest 
in  the  subject  upon  which  he  had  been  speaking.  He 
arose,  and  feebly  walked  the  room  in  silence. 

Emily  was  in  tears.  She  had  never  expected  to  hear 
her  father  speak  thus.  Not  that  she  was  grieved  at  their 
penniless  condition,  for  on  this  matter  she  did  not 
bestow  a  thought ;  but  he  was  correct  upon  the  curses 
of  slavery.  This  brought  tears  of  joy ;  yet  he  was  dis- 
tressed and  unhappy,  and  she  sympathized  deeply  with 
him. 

At  this  instant,  Frank  entered  the  room.  Mr.  Le 
22 


254:  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Rux  fixed  his  eyes  inquiringly  upon  him,  as  he  took 
from  his  pocket  a  newspaper,  and  said :  "  Father's 
illness  has  prevented  my  perusing  this  paper  sooner, 
but  I  find  that  the  Fugitive  Bill  has  passed  both  houses 
of  Congress." 

A  deep  groan  came  from  Mr.  Le  Rux,  with  the 
words,  "  O  God !  I  am  too  late ;  fool  that  I  am !  Emily, 
you  will  curse  me  !  "  He  would  have  spoken  more,  but 
a  paleness  overspread  Ms  face ;  he  sank  back  in  his 
chair,  and  motioned  Frank  to  open  the  door.  Emily 
attempted  to  loosen  his  neckcloth,  but  he  motioned  her 
to  retire.  She  turned  to  comply  with  his  request,  when 
he  said :   "  Seek  to  gather  strength,  my  child.     You 

have  a  God.    I  have  none,  for  I ."   He  stopped  short, 

and  said,  "  Come  to  my  room  in  half  an  hour,  Emily." 

Emily  went  directly  to  her  own  room,  where  she  did, 
indeed,  seek  to  gather  strength;  but  her  mind  was 
tossed  to  and  fro.  "  Is  my  father  deranged  ?  "  thought 
she.  "  How  can  I  otherwise  account  for  his  strange 
words  and  conduct  ?  "  She  remained  lost  in  meditation, 
until  the  striking  of  the  clock  reminded  her  of  the  time 
to  return  to  her  father's  room. 

"  I  shall  take  only  a  valise,  child,"  said  he,  as  she 
entered,  "  which  you  will  have  in  readiness.  I  trust  I 
may  return  within  a  few  weeks ;  but,  if  any  accident 
should  befall  me,  and  I  never  return ." 

He  hesitated,  and  Emily  said,  "  I  shall  leave  this 
place  of  blood,  dear  father,  and  earn  for  myself  an 
honest  living,  for  I  am  proud  of  these  hands  which 
God  has  given  me ;  and,  with  the  education  which  you 
have  so  kindly  bestowed,  I  shall  find  no  difficulty  in 
supporting  both  you  and  myself." 

"  The  way  is  now  open,"  continued  Mr.   Le  Rux, 


EVENTS  AT  THE  SOUTH.  255 

"for  your  return  to  France;  and  I  wish  you  to  go, 
immediately  upon  the  receipt  of  an  answer  to  this  let- 
ter, even  if  I  should  never  return."  The  letter  was  to 
Emily's  grandfather,  Americus  Le  Roy. 

Emily  was  silent,  and  her  father  went  on :  "  You 
know  how  to  pray,  Emily,  and  I  sometimes  feel  that 
your  prayers  might  perhaps  prevail  for  me.  Ask  God 
to  grant  me  forgiveness  for  all  my  past  sins,  which  are 
many.  I  greatly  desire  to  ask  forgiveness  of  those 
whom  I  have  wronged." 

Emily  was  deeply  affected. 

"  France  is  my  destination,"  said  he,  "  if  I  return ; 
and  France  must  be  yours,  if  I  do  not."  He  then 
arose,  and,  taking  a  letter  from  a  portfolio,  handed  it  to 
Emily,  with  these  words :  "  This  will  make  you  a  Stoic. 
It  is  for  your  perusal,  in  case  you  should  hear  of  my 
death,  or  at  the  expiration  of  three  months,  if  I  do  not 
return.  This  direction  is  not  given,  because  I  am  fear- 
ful that  my  health  will  fail,  for  that  has  improved  much 
during  the  last  few  days ;  but  we  are  at  all  times  liable 
to  accidents  and  death.  1  give  it  simply  as  an  act  of 
justice  to  you,  as  there  is  that  in  it  which  may  serve 
you  hereafter.  But,  if  I  return  within  the  three 
months,  I  shall  demand  it  of  you  unopened ;  and  I 
trust  I  shall  then  be  able  to  explain  all."  He  then 
gave  Emily  his  arm,  and  they  went  to  dinner. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  in  much  trouble,  at  the  loss  of  so 
faithful  a  house-servant  as  Dinah.  Betsy  could  not  fill 
her  place  at  all.  Dinah  could  do  any  kind  of  house- 
work, nursing  or  cooking;  and  her  mistress  had  no  idea 
that  she  was  going  to  die  so  soon.  "  I  do  not  see  why 
she  could  not  have  lived  longer,"  grumbled  Mrs.  Le 
Rux.     "  Many  of  the  slaves  will  nurse  all  their  own 


256  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

children,  and  take  care  of  their  master's  children,  too, 
even  if  there  be  a  dozen  of  them,  and  last  until  they 
are  eighty  years  old,  working  twenty  hours  out  of  the 
twenty-four.  I  have  known  them  to  be  whipped  up  on 
to  their  feet,  many  a  time,  when  they  were  down  with 
rheumatism ;  and  then,  after  they  got  a-going,  to  do  a 
good  day's  work.  I  did  not  whip  Dinah  much,  and 
she  got  lazy,  and  that  killed  her;  for  I  do  not  believe 
she  died  a  natural  death,  anyhow."  At  last,  the  selfish 
mistress  appealed  to  Emily,  to  know  what  she  thought 
killed  Dinah. 

"  I  think  the  Lord  removed  her,  in  answer  to  her 
prayers,"  said  Emily ;  "  for  she  used  often  to  tell  me, 
that  the  Lord  heard  her  prayers  for  her  old  man,  that  he 
might  die.  And  that  one  night  she  prayed  that  he 
might  die  before  the  overseer  came  to  whip  him  up  on 
to  his  feet  again ;  and  that  the  Lord  heard  her,  and 
took  him  away  that  night.  She  used  also  to  tell  me, 
that  her  back  was  all  sore,  where  she  had  been  whip- 
ped, even  when  she  was  doing  just  as  well  as  she  could 
for  you.  And  when  she  told  this,  she  said  she  prayed 
the  Lord  to  kill  her." 

"  And  did  you  not  tell  her  better,  Emily  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Le  Rux. 

"  No,  indeed ! "  replied  Emily,  "  I  always  encour- 
aged her  to  pray,  and  prayed  myself  that  her  prayers 
might  be  answered." 

"  That  is  dreadful ! "  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux ;  "  for  we 
hav  n't  got  but  a  few  niggers  left  now.  Did  you  pray 
to  have  the  cholera  come,  and  kill  all  the  niggers  left  on 
th€  plantation?" 

"  I  did  not  pray  for  the  cholera,"  replied  Emily,  "  but 
I  prayed  that,  in  some  way,  the  Lord  would  liberate  all 


EVENTS  AT  THE  SOUTH.  257 

the  slaves,  not  only  on  yours,  but  upon  every  plantation 
in  the  South." 

"  That  is  dreadful,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Emily,  "  you  need  not  give  your- 
self any  uneasiness,  for  the  Lord  will  not  answer  dread- 
ful prayers,  although  he  will  punish  those  who  make 
them.  But  how  do  you  pray  for  the  slaves,  aunt  ?  " 
said  Emily.  Mrs.  Le  Rux  made  no  answer,  and  Em- 
ily continued,  "  I  suppose  you  pray  that  they  may  live 
until  they  have  to  be  whipped  up  on  to  their  feet,  be- 
cause they  have  the  rheumatism,  and  are  old  and  worn 
out!" 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  prayed  for  them  at  all." 

"  But  you  profess  to  be  a  Christian,  aunt,  and  you 
ought  to  pray  for  everybody ;  although  I  believe  there 
are  some  for  whom  we  are  not  commanded  to  pray, 
and  for  whom  we  find  no  access  at  God's  throne — for 
whom  we  feel  no  witness  in  our  spirits  that  we  are 
heard.     But  surely  the  poor  slave  is  not  of  that  class." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Emily,  "  for  example,  I  have  tried 
to  pray  that  the  Lord  would  convince  you  of  the  great 
sin  you  are  committing,  in  holding  men  and  women  in 
slavery ;  but  it  always  seems  so  dark,  that  I  cannot  get 
any  witness  in  my  spirit  that  my  prayer  is  heard. 
Now,  either  it  is  a  dreadful  prayer,  and  God  will  not 
hear  and  answer  it,  or  else  your  mind  has  become  so 
dark,  and  you  have  so  long  sinned,  that  God  has  left 
you  to  believe  a  lie.  I  have  prayed  that  God  would 
open  your  eyes,  to  behold  the  judgment  he  is  about  to 
mete  out  to  this  guilty  people.  Is  it  because  it  is  a 
wrong  prayer,  that  it  is  not  heard  and  answered,  aunt  ? 

22* 


258  THi:   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

You  do  not  tell  me,  but  I  will  be  satisfied  to  receive  an 
answer  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  looked  thoughtful ;  and,  as  she  arose  to 
leave,  she  saw  the  eyes  of  Frank  and  his  uncle  riveted 
upon  her,  and  she  said,  "  This  will  ruin  us ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank,  "  it  will  ruin  us,  soul  and  body, 
for  time  and  for  eternity.  I  fear  there  is  no  hope, 
mother.  Another  spirit  has  now  escaped,  and  gone 
on  before  us,  to  appear  in  judgment  against  us." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  looked  at  Emily's  father,  as  if  she  ex- 
pected sympathy  from  him.  But  he  only  exclaimed, 
"Lost!  lost:  all  lost!  Eternity  —  oh,  what  a  fearful 
retribution ! "  Then,  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hands, 
as  if  to  shut  out  some  horrible  sight,  he  arose  and  left 
the  room. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  sat  herself  down,  wondering  at  what 
she  had  heard.  She  could  arrive  at  no  conclusion,  but 
that  it  must  all  be  the  fruit  of  that  "  Infidelity,"  which 
she  had  heard  was  preached  so  much  at  the  North; 
and  she  began  to  devise  some  method,  whereby  it 
might  be  put  down. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

EDWARD     LE     RUX    VISITS     THE    JEW. HE     LEAVES    THE 

SOUTH    FINALLY,    AND    GOES    NORTH. 

Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux  was  known  to  retire  regu- 
larly at  eight  o'clock ;  and  no  one  thought  of  disturb- 
ing him  after  that  time,  except  on  some  extraordinary 
occasion. 

Emily  had  been  with  him  several  times  during  the 
afternoon  and  evening,  but  the  subject  upon  which  they 
had  conversed  in  the  morning  was  not  referred  to  again, 
except  to  speak  of  his  journey.  Emily  read  to  him 
from  the  paper  which  Frank  had  brought,  and,  at  eight 
o'clock,  retired  to  her  own  room. 

In  about  thirty  minutes  after  Emily  retired,  Mr.  Le 
Rux  arose,  threw  over  his  shoulders  a  large  but  light 
cloak,  took  from  a  closet  a  walking  stick,  and  entered 
the  street  so  stealthily  as  to  be  unperceived. 

At  about  ten  o'clock,  he  was  admitted  into  a  retired 
building,  in  one  of  the  back  streets  in  New  Orleans. 
The  man  who  admitted  him  was  none  other  than  Jew 
David,  the  same  who  had  entered  the  house  of  Mr. 
William  Le  Rux,  on  the  night  of  the  burial  of  Julia 
De  Wolfe,  and  to  whom  Emily  had  pawned  the  brace- 
let. He  was  an  old  man,  and  spoke  tolerably  good 
English.  He  had  been  a  long  time  in  America,  and 
nearly  forty  years  in  New  Orleans. 

Mr.  Le  Rux,  although  evidently  much  fatigued,  pro- 

(259) 


260  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

ceeded  immediately  to  business.  Taking  from  his 
pocket  a  large  French  gold  repeater,  he  was  about  to 
offer  it  in  pawn  to  the  Jew,  when  he  was  interrupted 
by  the  inquiry  — 

"  How  ish  your  broder  ?  " 

Mr.  Le  Rux  started,  for  he  had  no  idea  of  being  rec- 
ognized by  the  Jew;  but  answered  immediately  that 
"  William  was  sick ; "  and  added,  "  I  wish  you  to  take 
this  watch,  and  give  me  one  hundred  dollars  on  it  for 
three  months." 

"  Veil,  if  your  broder  die,  ven  vill  I  get  my  monish  ?  " 
inquired  the  Jew. 

"  How  much  does  he  owe  you  ?  "  asked  Edward  Le 
Rux. 

"  All  de  monish  he  send  to  de  North  dese  good 
many  years,"  replied  the  Jew. 

"  And  what  per  cent  do*  you  get  ?  " 
"  No  matter  what   de  per  cent ;    he  owes  me  six 
tousand  tollars,  and  I  must  have  it !  "  replied  the  Jew. 

"  And  what  per  cent  ?  "  again  inquired  Edward  Le 
Rux. 

"  I  don't  care,  so  as  I  gits  my  monish,"  reiterated  the 
Jew,  evidently  designing  to  evade  the  question. 

Edward  Le  Rux  turned  to  leave  the  room,  when  the 
Jew  said,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  eagerly  upon  the  watch : 
"  Oh,  I  only  ask  if  your  broder  gets  well,  so  dat  I  gits 
my  monish.     I  '11  oblige  you,  Mr.  Le  Rux." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  oblige  me,"  was  the  haughty 
answer.  "  I  only  want  you  to  be  fair  in  your  calling, 
which  is  bad  enough,  and  give  me  one  hundred  dol- 
lars on  this  watch,  for  three  months.      It  cost  me ," 

then,  stopping  suddenly,  he  said,  "  No  matter."  And 
he  laid  it  upon  thp  counter  for  tho.  Jew  to  examine. 


NIGHT    VISIT   TO   THE   JEW.  261 

"  Oh,  it  ish  not  a  very  good  vatch,"  said  the  Jew, 
"  and  I  vants  my  monish  very  bad ;  but  I  vill  give  you 
seventy-five  tollars." 

Edward  Le  Rux  again  took  up  the  watch  to  go. 

"  Oh,  as  you  vants  de  monish  real  bad,  I  vill  give 
you  de  one  hundred,"  said  the  Jew. 

The  business  was  soon  arranged.  But,  as  Edward 
Le  Rux  turned  to  leave,  the  Jew  said :  "  You  brings 
much  monish  from  France,  Mr.  Le  Rux  ? "  Receiving 
no  answer,  he  continued :  "  Veil,  I  knows  all  about  de 
France,  and  all  about  de  America;  I  knows  all  about 
de  North,  and  all  about  de  South ;  and  I  shall  have  my 
monish." 

Stricken  to  the  very  heart  at  the  disclosures  of  the 
Jew,  Edward  Le  Rux  closed  the  door,  and  sought  his 
way  back.  Now  his  head  was  bowed  low  —  his  step 
was  slow,  and  it  took  him  nearly  three  hours  to  reach 
his  home.  The  words  of  the  Jew  had  also  the  baleful 
effect  to  make  him  pass  a  sleepless  night.  At  one  mo- 
ment, he  would  resolve  to  reproach  his  brother;  but 
that  brother  was  upon  a  sick  bed,  hovering  between 
life  and  death.  France  was  then  his  only  hope.  In 
this  manner  he  spent  the  night. 

"  France  "  was  the  last  word  Emily  heard  him  speak 
as  he  left.  It  was  only  after  the  '  farewell '  was  spoken 
and  he  had  entered  the  carriage,  that,  looking  out,  he  saw 
the  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  and  heard  her 
sobs.  Then  he  attempted  to  repeat  something  about 
"France;"  but  his  voice  faltered,  his  head  bowed 
down,  and  the  carriage  was  soon  lost  to  the  sight  of 
Emily. 

"  My  poor  father —  I  fear ,"  said  she,  as  she  gave 

her  arm  to   Frank.     She  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 


262  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  I  will  go  to  my  Father  in  heaven,"  thought  she,  as 
she  retired  to  her  own  room.  "  My  father  on  earth 
bade  me  pray  for  him,"  said  she,  as  she  closed  the 
door  behind  her. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE    DOCTOR'S    WARNING. JOe's     ESCAPE. DANGER    TO 

FRANK    AND    EMILY. 

In  less  than  an  hour,  Emily  stood  with  Frank  by 
the  sick  bed  of  his  father.  Frank  was  looking  into  her 
calm  face,  when  he  heard  the  voice  of  Dick,  in  the 
passage  leading  from  the  kitchen  to  the  back  sitting- 
room,  saying : 

"  Susan  say,  you  want  me  to  find  Joe.  Wal,  now,  I 
looks  all  ober  eb'rywhar,  an'  'im  ain't  nowhar." 

"  He  's  run  away,"  said  little  Nancy ;  "  for  I  hearn 
'im  say  he  'd  neber  stay,  'kaze  ole  mas'r  tell  de  ober- 
seer  w'ip  'im,  jest  'kaze  'im  mind  young  mas'r." 

Quick  as  thought,  Frank  took  his  way  to  the  kitchen, 
taking  care  to  close  the  door  behind  him,  lest  the  sound 
might  reach  his  father. 

"  Joe  has  ran  away,"  said  his  mother,  as  soon  as  he 
entered. 

"  I  suppose  he  has,"  said  Frank. 

"  When  did  he  go  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  have  missed  him  for  more  than  a 
week,"  replied  Frank. 

"  And  why  have  you  not  catched  him  ? "  asked  his 
mother. 

"  I  supposed,  mother,"  replied  Frank,  "  that  you  were 
already  aware  that  I  consider  every  man  as  having  a 
right  to  himself." 

(263) 


2U4  Till:    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  And  I  suppose  Emily  is  praying  that  he  may  die?" 
said  Mrs.  Le  Rux. 

"  She  is  more  likely  praying  that  he  may  get  safe  to 
Canada,  mother,  where  colored  men  are  free." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  could  stand  this  "Infidelity"  no  longer. 
Passing  Frank  hurriedly,  she  threw  open  the  door,  which 
he  had  just  closed  so  carefully,  and  exclaimed :  "  We 
are  ruined,  William !  You  must  get  up,  and  go  after 
Joe.  Emily  has  prayed,  until  he  ran  away  two  weeks 
ago.  She  has  prayed  Dinah  dead,  and  she  has  prayed 
ten  more  niggers  dead  down  on  the  other  plantation." 

Emily  endeavored  to  silence  her  aunt,  on  her  en- 
trance, but  did  not  succeed ;  and,  as  she  turned  to  the 
bed,  to  prevent  her  uncle  from  arising,  she  said :  "  I 
hope  I  have  prayed  them  all  to  heaven,  aunt." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  did  partially  raise  himself  from  his  bed, 
but  fell  back,  perfectly  unconscious,  while  his  eyes 
glared  horribly  at  his  wife. 

"The  doctor — the  doctor!"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  as 
she  sank  back  into  a  chair.  But  Frank  was  already 
leaving  the  room,  intent  upon  the  errand.  "He  is 
dead ! "  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  as  she  partially  lifted  her 
head,  and  again  met  his  glaring  eyes.  "  Oh,  it  is 
dreadful !     We  shall  all  die,  yet." 

"  It  is  only  a  paralytic  shock,"  said  Emily,  as  she 
lifted  his  arm :  "  See,  it  affects  the  whole  of  one  side." 

"  Poor  man ! "  said  his  wife.  "  I  knew  he  would 
have  a  fit,  when  he  found  out  what  was  going  on  with 
the  niggers  —  that  Dinah  was  dead,  that  Joe  had  run 
away,  and " 

Emily  was  about  to  reply  ;  but,  checldng  hersel  f,  she 
led  her  aunt  from  the  room.  "  You  are  imprudent, 
aunt,"  said  she,  assisting  the  heartless  woman  to  a 


WARNING   AGAINST  KIDNAPPERS.  265 

chair.    "  You  must  either  be  calm,  or  not 'return.     I 
heard  a  faint  groan  when  you  were  speaking." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  satisfied  to  remain  where  she  was, 
and  Emily  returned  to  her  uncle.  Upon  the  arrival  of 
Dr.  Willis,  however,  Mrs.  Le  Rux  again  entered  the 
sick  man's  room ;  Emily  came  too,  hoping  to  be  able 
to  keep  her  aunt  quiet. 

"  It  is  a  paralytic  shock,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Has 
anything  occurred  to  excite  him  ?  " 

Emily  motioned  her  aunt  to  silence;  but,  before 
Frank  had  time  to  reply,  Mrs.  Le  Rux  burst  out :  "  Oh 

yes,  Joe  has  run  away,  and  Dinah ."     She  was 

interrupted  by  a  groan  from  Mr.  Le  Rux,  and  Dr.  Willis 
motioned  Frank  to  lead  her  from  the  room. 

"  He  may  perhaps  recover  from  the  shock,"  said  Dr. 
Willis,  "  but  it  will  take  a  long  time  ;  and,  if  he  should 
have  a  second  attack,  I  fear  he  will  not  survive  it.  I 
will  leave  medicine,"  continued  he,  "  but  much  depends 
upon  your  watchfulness  and  care.  He  must  be  kept 
very  quiet.  Your  mother  seems  exceedingly  sensitive 
just  now,"  continued  the  doctor,  addressing  Frank; 
"  and  I  would  advise  that  she  be  not  allowed  in  this 
room  until  she  is  able  to  control  her  feelings." 

Dr.  Willis  arose,  and,  motioning  Frank  to  follow 
him,  they  entered  the  yard.  When  they  were  alone,  lie 
said,  "  I  believe  I  understand  you,  Frank." 

Frank  made  no  reply,  but  waited  for  the  doctor  to 
explain  himself ;  and  he  resumed :  "  I  was,  you  know, 
your  attending  physician,  during  that  sickness,  after 
your  return  from  the  North.  From  what  I  heard  and 
saw  at  that  time,  I  supposed  that  you  were  not  in  favor . 
of  our  peculiar  institution." 

Frank  bowed  an  assent ;  and  the  doctor  continued : 
28 


2G6  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  I  was  born  in  Connecticut ;  and  was  a  graduate  of 
Yale  College,  when  but  twenty-three  years  of  age.  I 
am  a  Northern  man  in  principle  now.  I  am  a  gray- 
headed  man ;  my  age  is  seventy ;  you  can  believe  what 
I  say.  I  attended  your  grandfather  Le  Rux  during 
his  last  sickness,  and  have  been  familiar  with  many  of 
the  occurrences  in  your  father's  family." 

This  the  doctor  evidently  said  with  the  intent  to 
learn  how  much  Frank  knew  in  regard  to  the  subject 
on  which  he  wished  to  speak ;  but  Frank  was  still  silent, 
and  the  doctor  asked,  "  Has  Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux  left 
here  for  the  North  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Frank. 

"  I  was  right,  then,"  said  the  doctor,  "  in  my  conjec- 
tures. At  a  late  hour  last  night,  I  saw  two  men  in  the 
city,  whose  appearance  excited  my  suspicion.  I  was 
where  I  could  overhear  them.  They  were  soon  joined 
by  a  third  person.  Part  of  their  talk  related  to  the  Le 
Rux  family.     One  of  the  men  was  a  Jew." 

Dr.  Willis  here  stopped,  looked  at  Frank,  as  if  he 
would  read  his  thoughts,  and  then  went  on  :  "  There 
are  those  connected  with  your  family  who  are  in  dan- 
ger. Emily's  father  will,  I  think,  be  followed.  What 
I  most  regret  is,  that  your  cousin  Emily  did  not  accom- 
pany her  father  on  his  journey  North." 

He  stopped,  as  if  recollecting  himself,  and  said : 
"  No,  that  would  be  of  no  use.  If  anything  unpleasant 
occurs,  notify  me.  In  the  mean  time,  act  as  a  vigilance- 
committee  around  your  own  dwelling." 

Frank  knew  not  what  to  reply,  but  looked  inquiringly 
at  the  doctor,  who  again  spoke :  "  Frank,  you  know 
not  the  dark  things  connected  with  human  slavery; 
too  many  of  them  have  /witnessed.     The  register  of 


WARNING   AGAINST  KIDNAPPERS.  267 

Heaven  is  stained  with  them ;  and,  when  there  are  a 
few  more  entered,  God  will  pour  out  his  phials  of  wrath 
upon  the  whole  nation.  It  was  'I"  continued  Dr.  Wil- 
lis, "  who  attended  Mrs.  Devony,  the  noble  daughter  of 
the  dissolute  De  Wolfe,  in  her  last  sickness.  It  was 
I  who  beheld  the  affection  she  bore  to  the  child  of  the 
erring,  but  repentant  Albert.  And  it  was  to  me  Albert 
told  his  fears  for  the  fate  of  Mary,  whom  he  loved.  It 
was  to  me  he  made  known  the  designs,  in  regard  to  the 
oath,  which,  although  so  sacred,  did  not  avail;  for 
Mary  was  given  up  to  the  vilest  of  the  vile!  Her 
daughter,  the  sweet  Julia  De  Wolfe  —  oh,  would  to 
God  I  knew ." 

"  And  what  would  you  know  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  I  would  know  what  became  of  her,"  replied  the 
doctor, "  for  I  have  suspicions  that  she  too  was  sold." 

"  And  she  was,"  said  Frank,  "  to  my  father,  and  died 
in  this  house,  in  my  cousin's  room,  attended  by  her  as 
she  would  have  attended  a  sister." 

"  Thank  God  it  was  no  worse ! "  said  Dr.  Willis. 
"  Death  is  welcome  to  all  like  her.  God  will  reward 
your  sweet  cousin  a  thousand-fold.  But  the  time  for 
me  to  make  disclosures  will  come  —  then  let  the  per- 
jured fear." 

The  doctor  stood  lost  in  thought  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  with  emotion,  "  I  must  know  more  of  this." 

He  departed,  and  Frank  stood  alone.  He  felt  as  if 
transfixed  to  the  spot.  "  My  cousin  in  danger,  and  my 
uncle  followed !  What  can  it  mean  ?  But  why  did 
the  doctor  not  speak  more  freely  ?  I  see  it,"  thought 
Frank ;  "  he  was  endeavoring  to  ascertain  how  far  I 
was  acquainted  with  my  uncle's  affairs.  He  acted  and 
spoke  with  the  greatest  caution." 


268  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

It  was  not  quite  dark.  As  Frank  Le  Rux  turned  to 
enter  the  house,  he  thought  he  saw  a  man  approaching 
the  back  part  of  the  building.  "  Am  I  becoming  ner- 
vous ?  "  thought  he,  as  he  repeated  the  words  spoken  by 
the  doctor  — "  Act  as  a  vigilance-committee  around 
your  own  dwelling."  The  man  was  going  in  the 
direction  of  the  quarters ;  perhaps  it  was  one  of  the 
slaves.  Frank  turned  to  enter  the  house,  but  as  he  did 
so,  the  words,  "  vigilance-committee,"  again  seemed  to 
sound  in  his  ears.     What  could  it  mean  ? 

Frank  finally  decided  to  follow  the  man  he  had  seen. 
But  he  must  first  inform  Emily,  or  she  would  be  anxious 
on  his  account.  He  found  her  chafing  his  father's 
hands  and  arms.  He  thought  she  looked  tired,  and  he 
would  relieve  her;  this  occupied  some  ten  minutes. 
As  he  was  proceeding  to  the  quarters,  with  a  noiseless 
but  quick  step,  he  met  some  one  returning  in  the  same 
noiseless  manner,  and  the  two  men  came  suddenly  in 
such  collision  as  to  cause  Frank  at  least  to  stagger. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  Frank.  The  strange 
man  gave  no  answer,  but  instantly  took  to  his  heels. 
Frank  could  not  follow  him,  but  determined  that  he 
would,  if  possible,  find  out  who  he  was,  and  what  was 
his  business  there.  He  found  the  negroes  engaged  in 
preparing  their  food. 

"  Who  has  been  here,  Dick  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Don'  kno,'  Mas'r  Frank  ;  'im  w'ite  man." 

"  What  did  he  want  here  ?  " 

"  Don'  kno',"  was  again  the  answer. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  'Im  ask  all  'bout  mas'r,  an'  w'eder  'im  gwine  to  die, 
an'  w'eder  'im  broder  's  gone  North." 

"  Was  that  all?" 


WARNING   AGAINST   KIDNAPPERS.  269 

"  'Im  ask  all  'bout  good  Miss  Em'ly ;  an'  w'eder  she 
be  gone  wid  'er  fader ;  an'  w'eder  she  be  rael  smart. 
An'  I  would  n't  tell  'im  anyt'ing  'im  wanted  to  kno' 
'bout  'er,  'kase  'im  talk  jest  like  dem  does  'bout  de 
slaves,  w'en  dem's  gwine  to  buy  um.  So  I  jest  tell  'im 
Miss  Em'ly 's  rael  good,  an'  lady,  an'  all  dat ;  an'  dat 
she  lib  in  France.  An'  den  'im  say  som'thin'  to  'imself 
'bout  'im  money,  an'  call  'im  monish  ;  an'  den  'im  goes 
off  'gin.  I  jest  t'inks  'im  rael  fool,  for  'im  talk  worse 
dan  de  niggers." 

"  It  can  be  no  other  than  the  Jew,"  thought  Frank, 
as  he  took  his  way  to  the  house  :  but  what  could  such 
a  fellow  want  of  his  cousin  Emily,  even  if  it  were  pos- 
sible that  her  father  was  in  debt  to  him,  and  he  was 
fearful  of  losing  the  amount  ?  Could  he  be  deceived 
in  any  way,  and  suppose  that  Emily  had  money,  and 
would  be  induced  to  pay  him  ? 

"  Your  father  is  sleeping,"  said  Emily,  as  she  met 
ffrank  in  the  hall.  She  was  going  to  add  more,  but 
she  stopped  as  she  beheld  Frank's  pale  and  anxious 
face,  which  she  thought  he  was  endeavoring  to  conceal. 
"  I  have  never  seen  my  cousin  look  more  unhappy ! " 
thought  Emily,  as  she  ascended  the  stairs  to  retire ; 
"  but  it  would  evidently  add  to  his  unhappiness  for  me 
to  question  him.  She  did  not  forget  to  offer  up  a 
prayer  in  her  father's  behalf.  It  was  painful  for  her  to 
think  that,  even  according  to  his  own  confession,  he 
had  been  a  wicked  man,  yea,  awfully  guilty.  But  he 
was  now  sensible  of  his  guilt,  and  might  perhaps 
repent,  make  amends,  and  find  mercy.  But  what  had 
he  done  that  so  troubled  him  ? 

Emily  could  not  control  her  feelings.  "  This  horrid 
system  of  slavery,"  thought  she,  "  is  viler  than  hell  in 


270  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

its  influence  upon  its  votaries/'  She  thought  of  Julia 
De  Wolfe.  "  Few  are  exempt  here,"  thought  she, 
"  from  committing,  or  in  some  way  partaking  of,  these 
most  horrid  crimes.  Can  it  be  that  my  father  has  ever 
sinned  as  did  Albert  De  Wolfe?  But  it  cannot  be,  for 
he  has  lived  in  France."  Sleep  at  last  came  to  Emily's 
relief;  but  there  are  doubtless  many,  who,  if  placed  in 
similar  circumstances,  would  have  been  sleepless.  Yet, 
Emily  found  peace.  It  was  that  peace  which  cometh 
from  above ;  which  the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take 
away.  Situated  as  she  was,  she  was  full  in  the  belief, 
that  ministering  spirits  were  permitted  to  approach  and 
watch  over,  soothe  and  comfort  her ;  and  it  was  this, 
that  so  often  stilled  the  tumult  in  her  weary  heart. 

Morning  found  Mr.  Le  Rux  a  little  more  comforta- 
ble. Emily  had  become  so  completely  tired  of  hearing 
her  aunt's  remarks,  in  regard  to  the  loss  of  property, 
while  at  the  same  time  she  seemed  perfectly  heartless 
and  devoid  of  sympathy,  that  she  resolved  upon  aban- 
doning her  altogether,  or  else  upon  taking  a  very  plain 
course  with  her. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  did  not  make  her  appearance  until 
breakfast  was  upon  the  table,  when  she  inquired  of 
Frank  concerning  his  father. 

"  He  may  perhaps  be  a  little  better,"  was  the  reply. 

Emily  could  not  refrain  from  asking  Frank,  if  he 
were  not  sick  himself? 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank  bitterly,  "  I  am  sick  —  not  in 
body,  but  in  mind." 

"  I  thought,"  said  his  mother,  "  that  you  would  at 
last  see  how  things  are.  If  your  father  should  die,  we 
would  be  in  a  dreadful  situation,  indeed." 

"  I  do  not  think,  mother,"  responded  Frank,  "  that 


WARNING   AGAINST   KIDNAPPERS.  271 

we  can  be  in  a  much  worse  situation  than  we  are  now, 
in  this  world.  I  do  not  refer  to  our  pecuniary  or  tem- 
poral interests ;  for  I  know  but  little  of  those,  except 
that  we  subsist  upon  the  unpaid  toil  of  others ;  what 
I  mean  is,  our  spiritual  affairs.  The  time  has  always 
come,  when  God  has  meted  out  punishment  to  the 
guilty,  even  in  this  world.  This  time,  I  think,  has  now 
come  with  us.  It  has  already  come  with  many  in  this 
land.  My  cousin  once  remarked,  that  '  the  proud  fam- 
ily of  Le  Rux  was  no  more  noble  than  the  once  proud 
family  of  De  Wolfe.'  The  latter  have  perished,  root 
and  branch.  It  would  be  dreadful,"  continued  he, 
"for  my  father  to  die,  for  he  is  wholly  unprepared  ;  but 
I  fear  he  will  only  accumulate  more  sin  upon  him- 
self, if  he  lives."  Frank  was  too  much  agitated  to  say 
more. 

Emily  was  silent. 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  first  spoke :  "  I  think  Frank  is  doing 
wrong  to  talk  of  his  father  in  such  disrespectful  terms. 
He  is  prepared  to  die,  if  anybody  ever  was ;  for  he  has 
been  a  member  of  the  church  for  the  last  twenty  years, 
and  he  is  now  in  good  and  regular  standing.  Besides, 
he  has  always  been  looked  up  to  in  religious  matters, 
both  on  account  of  his  piety,  and  because  he  has 
always  given  so  liberally  for  the  support  of  the  gospel, 
at  home  and  abroad." 

"  And  what  kind  of  a  gospel  have  you  supported, 
mother  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  Why,  the  Bible  kind,  of  course.  What  a  strange 
question  for  you  to  ask,  Frank ! " 

"  No,"  said  Frank,  solemnly,  "  you  do  not  support 
the  gospel  that  Christ  preached.  You  have  only  sup- 
ported a  gospel  that  pro-slavery  ministers  preached  to 


'l~'l  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

you,  and  you  will  not  permit  a  minister  of  the  true 
gospel  to  come  among  you.  You  would  put  him  to 
death,  as  the  Jews  did  Christ.  Yes,  indeed,  I  am  con- 
vinced that,  if  I  were  to  preach  the  same  golden-rule 
gospel  in  these  streets,  as  practical,  vital  truth,  that 
Christ  preached  in  Jerusalem  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago,  I  should  be  commanded  to  depart  out  of  these 
coasts;  and,  if  I  did  not  obey,  I  should  be  put  to 
death !  " 

The  words  spoken  by  Dr.  Willis  had  settled  so 
deeply  into  the  heart  of  Frank,  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  conceal  from  Emily  that  he  was  troubled. 
"  I  would  not,  on  any  account,  reveal  to  her  the  cause 
of  my  anxiety,"  thought  he. 

Emily,  on  the  other  hand,  was  constantly  scrutiniz- 
ing Frank's  troubled  countenance,  as  if  to  read  there 
the  index  of  his  heart.  She  could  not  but  fear  that 
there  was  something  besides  the  sickness  of  his  father 
that  weighed  heavily  upon  him.  "  Has  he  heard  any- 
thing from  my  father  ?  "  pondered  she.  "  I  have  confi- 
dence in  his  judgment,  and  I  will  wait  patiently." 

Dr.  Willis  revisited  them  on  the  third  day.  Mr.  Le 
Rux  seemed  to  comprehend  something  of  what  was 
passing  around  him,  but  the  doctor  still  urged  the  ne- 
cessity of  his  being  kept  quiet. 

Frank  attended  him  to  the  outer  door,  when  the  doc- 
tor stopped ;  and,  putting  a  note  into  his  hands,  inquired 
whether  they  had  received  any  news  from  Mr.  Edward 
Le  Rux  ?  Emily  heard  the  inquiry,  and  advanced  near 
enough  to  hear  flank's  reply  in  the  negative. 

Dr.  Willis  turned  suddenly,  and  left  the  house. 
Frank  followed  him  to  the  yard,  with  a  determination 
to  ask  more  concerning  what  seemed  to  him  so  strange. 


WARNING   AGAINST   KIDNAPPERS.  273 

"  I  am  much  interested  in  that  cousin  of  yours, 
Frank,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Her  father  never  should  have 
brought  her  here,  to  witness  these  unholy  scenes.  But, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  she  would  act  her  part  well  in 
almost  any  emergency." 

Frank  gave  him  his  assurance  that  he  might  depend 
upon  that,  and  was  about  to  ask  an  explanation  of 
former  hints,  when  Dr.  Willis  said : 

"  Trust  me,  Frank,  and  remember  the  words  which  I 
speak :  act  as  a  vigilance-committee  in  and  around 
your  own  dwelling." 

Frank  was  about  to  speak  again,  when  the  doctor 
said  :  "  I  must  not  be  delayed  —  I  leave  the  city  with- 
in this  hour.  God  willing,  I  shall  be  in  this  place 
again  within  three  weeks.  There  is  danger  threatening 
those  whom  I  love,  whom  you  love  ;  but  I  have  learned 
to  trust  a  stronger  arm  than  mine.     Farewell." 

Frank  was  alone.  He  had  remained  thoughtfully,  a 
short  time,  where  the  doctor  left  him,  when  he  was 
startled  by  a  footstep,  and,  the  next  moment,  Dr.  Willis 
took  him  by  the  hand,  and  said : 

"  Have  I  erred,  Frank,  in  believing  that  you  were 
sustained  by  that  religion  which  would  enable  you  to 
trust  a  higher  power  than  man  ?  Will  you  sink  into 
despondency,  and  perhaps  bring  on  disease  ?  I  go  to 
brave  danger,  perhaps  death,  for  our  friends,  with 
nothing  to  guide  me  but  the  holy  light  of  truth  and 
right,  which  beams  into  my  soul  from  above,  pointing 
me  to  duty. 

"  These  are  perilous  times,"  continued  Dr.  Willis, 
"for  the  proud  family  of  Le  Rux.  These  are  very 
guilty  times,  for  this  boasted  'land  of  liberty;'  for 
darkness  has  come  with  her  prosperity,  and  she  has 


271  Tin:  ctfBSS  kntailkd. 

forgotten  the  arm  upon  which  her  fathers  leaned.  But 
judgment  hastens.  Men  do  not  believe,  because  they 
are  not  swept  en  masse  down  the  rolling  tide  on  which 
their  crimes  convey  them.  One  after  another,  they  en- 
ter the  current  of  error,  and  each  in  i  urn  passes  over  the 
dread  cataract.  Each  in  turn,  did  I  say  ?  Yes.  Know 
you  not  that  the  massive  Webster  has  now  taken  that 
fatal  step  which  will  soon  hurry  him  down  to  oblivion? 
Oh,  I  could  fain  weep  over  him,  for  he  was  my  friend 
in  other  days ;  with  him  have  I  taken  sweet  counsel." 

The  doctor  was  eloquent.  He  had  touched  the  right 
chord  in  Frank's  heart,  and  his  object  was  gained. 

Frank  was  ready  for  action,  still  he  looked  inquir- 
ingly at  the  doctor,  who  said,  "  Seek  not  to  know  all 
too  soon,  but  learn  to  trust  in  the  Almighty  God." 

As  Frank  returned  to  the  house,  he  thought,  "  Have 
I  not  offered  myself  a  living  sacrifice,  and  shall  I  then 
falter  in  the  hour  of  peril  ?  "  The  words  of  the  doctor 
had  sunk  deep  into  his  heart,  although  he  did  not  fully 
understand  them.  "  It  must  come,"  thought  he ;  "  the 
mighty  retribution  must  indeed  come." 

On  entering  the  house,  Frank  glanced  at  the  super- 
scription on  the  unsealed  note,  which  the  doctor  had 
handed  him.  It  was  to  Emily.  He  found  her  by  the 
bedside  of  his  father,  and  together  they  perused  it.  It 
was  simply  a  request  that  Emily  would  commit  to 
writing  every  circumstance  connected  with  Julia  De 
Wolfe,  from  the  time  she  first  saw  her,  as  the  slave  of 
Mr.  Le  Rux,  until  her  death  and  burial. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE     INVALID    STRANGER    AT     MRS.    WISE's. MYSTERIES 

EXPLAINED. 

It  was  in  the  early  part  of  a  pleasant  evening  that  a 
carriage  was  driven  slowly  into  the  quiet  village  of 
C . 

"  I  will  be  left  here,"  said  an  elderly  gentleman,  in 
a  somewhat  tremulous  voice. 

The  driver  was  turning  the  horses'  heads  in  the 
direction  of  the  only  inn  which  the  village  afforded, 
when  the  gentleman  added,  "  I  will  alight  here ;  you 
do  not  wish  to  put  up  at  the  inn,  and  it  is  just  as  well 
for  me  to  stop  here." 

The  driver  stopped  his  horses,  and  let  down  the  steps 
to  the  carriage.  The  gentleman,  in  alighting,  showed 
considerable  weakness  and  infirmity.  The  driver  re- 
ceived his  fare,  and  returned  in  the  direction  from  which 
he  had  entered  the  village. 

The  stranger  now  feebly  took  up  his  valise  —  the 
only  baggage  which  he  had  —  and  turned  as  if  to  go 
west. 

"  He  seems  every  inch  a  gentleman,"  soliloquized  the 
driver,  on  his  way  back ;  "  but  it  was  mighty  queer  in 
him  to  be  left  there  in  the  road,  weak  and  sick  as  he  is. 
He  was  so  silent,  too,  as  to  who  he  was  and  where  he 
was  going.  But  if  he  hain't  got  some  friends  pretty 
near  there,  why,  I  pity  him,  that 's  all." 

(275) 


276  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Richard  Wise,  as  he  entered  his 
house  some  two  hours  after  the  stranger  had  been  left 

in  the   village   of   C ,  **  that   there   is   a  fugitive 

coming  up  the  road." 

Mrs.  Wise  looked  a  moment,  and  said :  "  Yes,  and 
he  is  evidently  very  weak ;  for  he  moves  slowly,  and 
seems  to  support  himself  almost  entirely  upon  his  staff. 
Make  a  better  fire,  Richard,  and  put  the  tea-kettle  on 
the  stove,  while  I  go  and  awake  Ella.  Her  father  did 
not  come  this  way  from  Nathan's,  and  she  has  dropped 
asleep." 

"  She  was  glad  he  did  n't  come,  I  think,"  said 
Richard. 

"  She  don't  like  to  stay  here  any  better  than  1  like  to 
have  her,"  replied  Mrs.  Wise. 

"  I  wish  she  would  always  stay  with  us,"  said 
Richard.  "  It  is  providential  that  she  is  here  now,  for  I 
should  be  put  to  my  wits'  end,  if  the  fugitive  were  to 
be  followed  here ;  but  I  suppose  I  should  go  down  and 
notify  James,  and  let  the  slave-catchers  chase  after  him, 
instead  of  the  fugitive." 

Ella  soon  made  her  appearance.  By  this  time,  the 
supposed  fugitive  had  approached  the  house,  and  sat 
down  upon  the  neat  stone  step.  Bowing  his  head  low 
upon  his  breast,  he  seemed  greatly  agitated. 

"  He  does  not  look  like  a  fugitive,"  thought  Ella, 
upon  opening  the  door. 

"  He  is  a  gentleman,"  whispered  Richard  to  his 
mother,  "  if  I  can  judge  anything  by  his  looks." 

"  He  is  in  distress,"  said  Mrs.  Wise ;  and  she  advanced 
to  the  door  with  motherly  interest. 

"  You  seem  weary,  stranger,"  said  Ella.     "  Will  you 


OCCURRENCES  AT  THE  NORTH.         277 

not  enter  the  house,  and  partake  of  our  hospitality  ? 
You  will  indeed  be  welcome." 

The  stranger  raised  his  head,  and  looked  at  Ella ; 
but  it  was  too  dark  for  them  to  scan  each  other's  features. 

"  Give  the  gentleman  your  arm,  my  son,"  said  Mrs. 
Wise,  as  she  saw  with  what  difficulty  he  was  rising  to 
his  feet. 

Ella  drew  forth  the  large  chair,  and  begged  him  to 
be  seated.  He  complied,  but  sat  in  silence,  eyeing  the 
three  by  turns,  in  a  most  scrutinizing  manner.  Supper 
was  soon  prepared  for  the  stranger;  but  he  partook 
very  scantily  of  the  repast  so  kindly  prepared  for  him. 
He  then,  with  much  emotion,  said : 

"  I  have  probably  made  some  mistake.  I  came  here 
to  see  persons  I  once  knew,  but  I  do  not  think  I  recog- 
nize you." 

"  Mrs.  Le  Clare  used  to  live  in  this  house,"  replied 
Mrs.  Wise.  "  I  had  for  some  time  resided  with  her, 
before  her  decease,  which  took  place  but  a  few  weeks 
ago,  and  I  have  remained  here  ever  since." 

Ella  was  watching  the  stranger  very  intently,  and 
noticed  that  he  trembled  exceedingly  while  Mrs.  Wise 
was  speaking.  He  at  length  arose,  and  stepped  into 
the  open  air  as  if  to  recover  breath.  He  soon  returned 
and  again  seated  himself. 

"  Mrs.  Le  Clare  left  an  only  son,"  said  Ella,  "  who  is 

at  this  time  a  student  in College.     He  has  but 

just  returned  thither,  after  paying  the  last  duties  to  the 
remains  of  his  deceased  and  much  beloved  mother." 

A  groan  from  the  stranger  was  the  only  answer  she 
received,  while  it  was  apparent  to  them  all  that  he  was 
in  great  distress. 

24 


278  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Will  you  enlarge  your  hospitality  to  a  night's  lodg- 
ing, madam  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  Most  certainly,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Wise ;  "  and,  if 
you  are  a  friend  or  acquaintance  of  my  dear  and  kind 
patroness,  the  late  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  permit  me  to  say, 
that  I  only  remain  here  at  the  bidding  of  her  son, 
Edward,  and  that  I  am  authorized  to  give  you  a  wel- 
come to  his  hospitality,  be  it  for  a  longer  or  shorter 
time  —  such  as  he  would  give,  were  he  at  home." 

The  stranger  thanked  her  for  her  land  offer,  and 
then  said,  "  I  am  not  well,  and  will  retire." 

Ella  showed  him  to  the  room  of  Edward,  but  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  he  ascended  the  stairs. 

"  He  is  very  feeble,"  said  Ella  to  Mrs.  Wise,  on  her 
return  to  the  sitting-room. 

"  Whoever  he  is,  he  will  have  to  remain  here  until 
he  gets  strength,"  replied  Mrs.  Wise. 

"  He  seems  to  me,"  said  Ella,  "  to  be  one  of  the 
stricken  ones.     Had  Mrs.  Le  Clare  a  brother  ?  " 

"  I  never  knew  of  her  being  visited  by  any  relative, 
and  I  think  I  have  heard  her  say  that,  to  her  knowledge, 
she  had  none  in  the  world,"  answered  Mrs.  Wise. 

"  He  is  sick,  or  going  to  be,"  said  Richard.  "  Besides, 
he  feels  very  bad  about  something  —  I  am  sure  of  that. 
He  looked  upon  everything  in  the  room  in  such  a 
strange  way." 

Many  were  the  conjectures  of  the  three  respecting 
the  stranger,  even  after  they  had  ceased  to  express  them. 
"  I  am  sure  the  gentleman  is  very  sick,"  said  Richard, 
as  he  met  Ella  next  morning ;  "fori  have  heard  him 
tossing  and  groaning  all  night." 

"  You  must  go  to  his  room  immediately,"  said  Ella. 

Richard  obeyed,  but  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  and 


OCCURRENCES  AT  THE  NORTH.         279 

informed  Ella  that  he  thought  the  stranger  was  indeed 
very  ill,  and  requested  her  to  go  to  the  chamber  without 
delay. 

Mrs.  Wise  had  not  arisen,  and  Richard  attended 
Ella,  who  found  the  stranger  in  a  raging  fever.  She 
inquired  whether  he  were  not  sick.  He  did  not  seem  to 
notice  the  inquiry ;  his  eyes  were  closed,  but  his  lips 
moved. 

"  He  is  praying,"  thought  Ella.  She  listened  a  mo- 
ment, and  heard  him  say : 

"  Emily,  I  am  lost ! " 

Beckoning  Richard  from  the  room,  Ella  directed  him 
to  go  immediately  for  Dr.  Freeman.  On  the  doctor's 
arrival,  Ella  informed  him  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
stranger  became  their  guest,  and  also  of  the  occur- 
rences since. 

"  He  has  a  very  severe  attack  of  nervous  fever,"  said 
the  doctor, "  and  is  somewhat  delirious.  Mrs.  Le  Clare's 
name  was,  I  think,  Emily  ?  "  continued  he,  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ella. 

"  I  could  distinctly  hear  him  pronounce  that  name,  as 
well  as  '  Edward,'  "  said  the  doctor ;  "  and  there  was 
still  another  name  he  sometimes  mentioned." 

Richard  attended  upon  the  sick  stranger  through  the 
day,  but  Ella's  sympathy  was  so  much  excited  that  she 
spent  considerable  time  in  the  room. 

Towards  evening,  his  delirium  increased.  Dr.  Free- 
man came,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Erskine.  Ella  was 
with  the  sick  man,  who  had  become  almost  uncontrol- 
lable. He  tossed  from  side  to  side  —  talked  incohe- 
rently of  his  journey  —  of  being  too  late — of  the 
Fugitive  Bill,  and  other  topics.     In  short,  all  in  the 


280  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

room  became  more  or  less  excited  by  his  manner,  and 
felt  a  deep  sympathy  for  the  sufferer. 

Under  Dr.  Freeman's  soothing  treatment,  he  at  length 
became  calmer. 

"  Will  you  please  examine  his  valise  ? "  said  Dr. 
Freeman  to  Mr.  Erskine,  after  Ella  and  Mrs.  Wise 
had  retired.  "  He  is  so  feverish,  that  I  desire  a  change 
of  linen." 

"  He  could  not  have  intended  to  be  long  absent  from 
home,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "  as  he  has  but  a  single 
change  of  linen  that  has  not  been  worn."  This  they 
used. 

After  Ella  and  Mrs.  Wise  returned,  the  doctor  re- 
quested Ella  to  examine  the  valise  more  minutely. 

"  Here  is  a  Bible,  a  pair  of  drawers,  a  pair  of  stock- 
ings, and  here  is  a  picture  of  a  lady  and  two  children ! " 
was  Ella's  surprised  remark,  as  she  looked  in  the  valise. 
"  The  lady's  likeness  very  much  resembles  Mrs.  Le 
Clare,  except  that  it  must  have  been  taken  when  she 
was  young."  " 

"  And  it  is  very  much  like  Mrs.  Le  Clare  when  I 
first  saw  her,"  said  Mrs.  Wise,  looking  at  the  picture  ; 
"  and  the  child  in  her  arms  —  why,  it  must  have  been 
taken  for  Edward,  though  younger  by  considerable 
than  when  I  first  saw  him.  And  then,"  continued  Mrs. 
Wise,  "  Mrs.  Le  Clare  talked  a  great  deal  about  her 
little  daughter,  whom  she  said  Mr.  Le  Clare  would 
not  consent  to  be  separated  from,  during  his  stay  at 
the  South.  And  Eddy,  as  Mrs.  Le  Clare  then  called 
Edward,  used  to  talk  about  his  sister  Eda.  I  think 
her  name  was  Edith. 

"  Mr.  Wise  was  very  ill  at  that  time,"  continued 
Mrs.  Wise,  "  and,  had  it  not  been  for  Mrs.  Le  Clare's 


OCCURRENCES  AT  THE  NORTH.  281 

kindness,  we  must  have  suffered.  She  always  acted  the 
part  of  a  sister  to  me.  She  used  to  weep  a  great  deal, 
then,  when  she  talked  about  her  family,  but  she  seldom 
spoke  of  them  for  several  years  previous  to  her  death." 

"  And  what  was  their  fate  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Erskine. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  they  were  lost  on  their  passage  to 
France,"  replied  Mrs.  Wise. 

Dr.  Freeman  took  the  picture,  and,  after  examining 
it,  said :  "  Yes,  this  is  undoubtedly  the  picture  of  Mrs. 
Le  Clare,  and  of  both  her  children — Edward,  the 
youngest,  and  Edith,  whom  I  once  saw,  as  I  was  called 
to  attend  her  in  a  case  of  croup.  She  was  then  about 
six  years  old.  I  can  positively  recognize  the  likeness," . 
continued  the  doctor,  "  although  it  must  have  been 
taken  some  time  before  I  saw  her  —  probably  before  she 
left  France ;  as  I  have  seen  no  miniature  painting  of 
the  kind  so  well  executed  in  this  country." 

During  these  remarks,  Dr.  Freeman  had  stood  beside 
the  bed  of  the  stranger.  As  ne  ceased  speaking,  the 
doctor  again  examined  his  patient.  "  He  is  becoming 
more  conscious,"  said  the  kind  physician,  in  a  gentle 
voice,  as  he  motioned  them  to  withdraw. 

"  You  will  call  me  at  any  hour  you  please,"  said  Mr. 
Erskine,  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Dr.  Freeman  remained  with  his  patient  until  twelve 
o'clock,  at  which  time  he  found  Ella  up.  "  I  have  left 
him  quite  comfortable,"  said  he,  in  answer  to  Ella's 
inquiry.  "  He  has  scarcely  any  fever,  and  has  sunk  into 
a  quiet  sleep." 

What  had  been  said  between  the  doctor  and  the  stran- 
ger, Ella  knew  not.  But  the  doctor  held  in  his  hand  a  let- 
ter, which  he  informed  her  was  to  Edward,  requesting 
him  to  hasten  home.     Mr.  Erskine  now  went  to  the 

Ol* 


282  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

chamber  of  the  sick  man;  Dr.  Freeman  took  his 
departure,  and  Ella  retired  to  rest. 

On  the  forenoon  of  the  next  day,  while  Richard  was 
in  attendance  upon  the  sick  man,  a  peddler  entered  the 
house,  and,  unceremoniously  divesting  himself  of  his 
heavy  pack,  placed  it  upon  the  floor,  and  proceeded  to 
enumerate  and  expose  to  view  the  various  articles,  which, 
he  said,  he  was  sure  the  ladies  needed.  Mrs.  Wise  and 
Ella  both  informed  him  that  they  wished  to  make  no 
purchases.  The  peddler  became  very  positive  that  they 
stood  in  need  of  this,  or  that,  or  the  other  article,  which 
he  took  from  his  pack,  and  which  he  would  sell  for  less 
than  cost,  as  he  was  anxious  to  return  to  New  York. 
Our  friends  still  persisted  in  not  buying,  but  the  ped- 
dler was  in  no  sort  of  a  hurry,  and  proposed  a  barter 
for  some  dinner.  To  this  Mrs.  Wise  acceded,  inform- 
ing him  that  dinner  would  be  ready  in  a  short  time. 

The  peddler  seated  himself,  and  seemed  to  be  taking 
a  view  of  the  house.  Looking  sharply  at  the  door 
leading  to  the  chamber,  he  said,  interrogatively,  "  You 
have  a  sick  man  up  stairs  ?  "  and  then  added,  "  I  saw 
the  doctor  going  away,  when  I  came  toward  the  house." 

"  We  have  a  sick  stranger  in  the  chamber,"  replied 
Mrs.  Wise. 

"  Did  he  come  here  night  before  last  ?  "  asked  the 
peddler.  Receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirmative,  he  con- 
tinued :  "  I  thought  he  must  be  the  same  man  I  saw, 
who  was  trying  to  find  his  wife  and  son ;  but  I  did  n't 
believe  he  would  find  them  here." 

Ella,  anxious  to  learn  something,  if  possible,  concern- 
ing the  stranger,  now  became  quite  communicative. 
She  asked  several  questions,  as  to  where  the  peddler 
had  met  the  invalid,  what  he  had  said,  &c.     And,  at 


OCCURRENCES  AT  THE  NORTH.         283 

length,  Ella  mentioned  the  death  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare, 
adding  that  she  left  a  son,  who  had  returned  to  college. 

"  And  vat  vash  the  name  of  the  vomans  who  died  ?  " 
asked  the  peddler. 

"  Mrs.  Le  Clare,"  said  Ella. 

"  And  vere  ish  her  son  gone  ?  " 

"  He  has  returned  to  college  at  C- ,"  replied  Ella. 

Now  the  peddler  wished  to  see  the  sick  man,  that 
he  might  be  able  to  decide  whether  it  was  the  man  he 
had  met,  which  Ella  thought  would  be  very  proper, 
and  she  led  the  way  to  the  chamber.  The  peddler  was 
very  considerate ;  he  feared  to  disturb  the  sick  man, 
and  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  enter  the  room,  but 
stood  a  little  back  from  the  door,  where  he  could  get  a 
full  view  of  the  stranger,  without  running  the  least 
chance  of  disturbing  him. 

Ella  felt  some  disappointment  when  the  peddler 
informed  her  that  the  invalid  was  not  the  man  whom 
he  had  met.  And,  when  she  answered  a  question,  as  to 
where  was  the  young  man  who  was  studying,  she  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  see  the  peddler  take  from  his 
pocket  a  memorandum-book,  and  note  down  the 
answer.  The  peddler  now  became  quite  silent,  man- 
ifesting, however,  an  impatience  for  his  dinner,  which 
he  had  no  sooner  eaten  than  he  departed. 

"  Stop ! "  said  a  commanding  voice  to  the  peddler,  on 
the  third  evening  after  his  departure  from  the  house  of 

our  friends  in  C .     "  Stand !     You  must  give  an 

account  of  yourself." 

Our  peddler  had  not  taken  the  road  to  New  York, 
but  had  travelled  rapidly  in  a  southerly  direction.  He 
had  left  the  cars,  and  proceeded  about  one  mile  on  foot, 
on  a  retired  road,  leading  from  the  railway.     He  had 


284  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

evidently  seen  in  the  cars  the  face  of  some  one  by  whom 
he  did  not  wish  to  be  recognized. 

The  speaker  was  within  a  few  paces  of  him,  pointing 
a  pistol  at  his  breast. 

"  Oh,  murder  !  "  cried  the  peddler,  while  he  obeyed 
the  summons. 

As  the  speaker  advanced,  the  peddler  dropped  upon 
his  knees,  exclaiming,  in  a  supplicating  manner :  "  Oh ! 
I  ish  honest  —  I  does  no  harm  —  my  monish  scarce  — 
and  I  comes  dish  way  to  sell  some  goots,  and  I 
promise " 

"  Cease  your  perjury,  villain ! "  said  the  first  speaker, 
(who  was  no  other  than  Dr.  Willis).  "  I  have  tracked 
you  but  too  well.     I  go  to " 

"  Oh !  I  ish  so  sorry,"  said  the  peddler ;  at  the  same 
time  he  arose,  and,  advancing  a  step  or  two  nearer  the 
doctor,  said,  "  I  don't  vant,  my  monish."  At  that 
instant  the  doctor  saw  a  stiletto  gleam  in  his  hand. 

"  Villain ! "  said  the  doctor,  as  he  stepped  suddenly 
aside,  at  the  same  instant  dealing  him  a  blow  upon  the 
right  arm,  which  caused  the  weapon  to  fly  from  his 
grasp. 

"  Assassin!  dog!"  said  the  doctor,  "remember  Jame- 
son." 

"  Oh,  I  leaves  dish  country,"  interrupted  the  peddler, 
as  he  ran  for  the  woods. 

"  I  Sught  to  have  you  arrested,"  said  the  doctor,  as 
he  followed  him  with  his  eyes.  "  You  will  outstrip 
me."  He  stooped,  and,  picking  up  the  stiletto,  pro- 
ceeded in  the  direction  from  which  the  peddler  had 
come,  and  soon  found  himself  at  *the  depot,  to  await 
the  arrival  of  the  cars. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

INTRODUCTION     OF     MR.     LIVINGSWORTH     AND     MR.     BAT- 
TELL. SCENES    AT    THE    SOUTH. 

Mr.  "William  Le  Rux  gained  strength  slowly  under 
the  treatment  prescribed  by  Dr.  Willis.  Frank  and 
Emily  flattered  themselves  that  he  might,  in  time,  be- 
come quite  comfortable.  But  Emily  was  becoming 
exceedingly  anxious  to  hear  from  her  father.  Frank 
was  cheerful,  although  he  had  many  forebodings  of 
evil ;  the  future  to  him  was  shrouded  in  darkness. 

Emily  was  sitting  in  the  parlor  one  afternoon,  when 
her  aunt  entered,  followed  by  a  gentleman  of  some 
thirty-five  or  forty  years  of  age,  whom  she  introduced 
to  Emily  as  Mr.  Livingsworth.  There  was  an  ef- 
frontery in  his  manner  which  did  not  please  Emily, 
and  she  arose  to  retire,  but  her  aunt  insisted  upon  her 
remaining,  and  she  felt  that  she  must  comply  with  the 
request.  But  she  had  scarcely  reseated  herself,  before 
she  regretted  it;  for  she  perceived  that  she  was  the 
object  of  a  severe  and  searching  scrutiny  from  Mr. 
Livingsworth.  "  I  am  surprised,"  thought  she,  "  that 
my  aunt  can  even  admit  so  ungentlemanly  a  man  to 
her  house,  except  in  presence  of  my  uncle,  or  cousin." 

Mr.  Livingsworth  attempted  to  make  himself  agree- 
able to  Emily ;  but,  as  he  received  nothing  more  than 
"  No  sir,"  or  "  I  don't  know,"  in  answer  to  his  inquiries, 
and  did  not  receive  a  look  of  approbation  for  his  com- 

i 285) 


286  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

pliments,  he  soon  entered  into  conversation  with  her 
aunt,  whom  Emily  found  could  be  quite  agreeable  to 
one  whose  manner  and  bearing  gave  her  so  much  dis- 
gust. 

"  I  leave  for  the  North,  to-morrow ;  "  said  Mr.  Liv- 
ingsworth,  as  he  arose  to  depart.  "  I  take  my  eldest 
daughter  with  me :  we  visit  at  different  points,  and,  on 
our  return,  attend  the  meeting  of  the  Colonization  So- 
ciety, in  New  York. 

"  I  take  a  great  interest  .in  the  proceedings  of  that 
society,"  continued  he,  "  as  it  is  admirably  calculated  to 
remove  one  of  the  greatest  barriers  to  the  safety  of  our 
institutions  at  the  South.  That  society,  by  sending  off 
the  free  niggers  to  Africa,  so  that  they  cannot  be  an 
incentive  to  freedom,  helps  us  nobly." 

As  he  cast  another  look  at  Emily,  she  felt  so  indig- 
nant, that  she  passed  both  her  aunt  and  Mr.  Livings- 
worth,  without  offering  one  word  or  bestowing  one 
look  upon  either,  and  left  the  room. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  cousin?  "  asked  Frank,  as  he 
met  her  in  the  hall.  "  I  never  saw  you  looking  so  much 
like  being  really  angry  before." 

"  Will  you  inform  me  of  the  character  of  that  fellow 
now  passing  from  the  house  ? "  asked  Emily,  as  she 
pointed  to  the  window. 

Frank  caught  a  full  view  of  the  receding  form  of 
Livingsworth,  and  answered :  "  Much  the  same,  cousin, 
as  the  rest  of  our  Southern  aristocratic  slaveholding 
'  Christians,'  whose  characters  are,  in  most  cases,  black 
enough,  I  assure  you." 

"  And  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  their  wives 
and  daughters ! "  said  Emily.  "  That  man  mentioned 
taking  his  daughter  with  him  to  the  North ;  but,  if  I 


OCCURRENCES  AT  THE  SOUTH.  287 

were  his  daughter,  and  could  not  defend  myself — which, 
by  the  way,  cousin,  I  have  the  faith  to  believe  I  could, 
even  from  here  to  my  grandfather's  estate  in  France  — 
why,  then  I  would  ask  the  protection  of  some  one 
like  honest  Joe,  who  escaped  from  Southern  bondage  a 
few  weeks  since." 

"  Cousin,"  said  Frank,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  injure  your 
feelings,  especially  at  this  time,  when  I  perceive  that 
you  are  filled  with  as  much  indignation  as  you  can 
well  contain ;  but  I  do  desire  to  say,  that  I  fully  believe 
slavery  has  an  influence  equally  deteriorating  on  male 
and  female  —  that  its  influence  is  equally  bad  on  father 
and  mother,  husband  and  wife,  son  and  daughter.  In 
many  instances  that  have  come  within  my  knowledge, 
I  have  seen  it  work  ruin  alike  on  both  sexes.  The  dif- 
ference is  this:  The  husband  is  bold  and  defying, 
the  wife,  sly  and  designing.  This  is  owing  merely  to 
the  differences  in  their  positions.  The  husband  will  do 
as  he  pleases,  and  she  may  help  herself;  the  wife-  must 
be  ruled.  Her  mind  revolts  at  the  thought  of  being 
thus  treated.  Her  propensities  are  the  same  as  his, 
and  all  she  has  to  do  is  to  hide  her  guilt !  And  this 
is  the  reason,"  continued  Frank,  "  that  it  is  '  down, 
down,  down,  with  this  bewildered,  blinded,  hardened 
people. 

"  There  is  one  circumstance  now  rising  before  me, 
which  I  witnessed  when  I  was  but  a  mere  lad.  At 
the  time,  I  did  not  fully  comprehend  it,  but,  it  has,  since 
then,  come  up  before  me,  with  the  interpretation  also, 
as  clear  as  the  noonday  sun.  This  circumstance, 
although  horrid  beyond  anything  you  can  conceive,  I 
desire  to  relate." 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  young  negro  boy,  who 


288  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

informed  them  that  there  was  a  gentleman  in  waiting, 
who  inquired  for  "  Mas'r  Frank  an'  Miss  Em'ly." 
They  both  descended  to  the  parlor.  The  gentleman 
proved  to  be  a  friend  of  Dr.  Willis,  who  had  received 
from  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  our  young  friends. 
The  letter  read  as  follows : 

"  Dear  Frank,  —  The  bearer  of  this,  Mr.  Battell,  is 
a  young  gentleman  of  much  worth  and  integrity.  He 
is  friendless,  and  seeks  kind  hearts  and  sympathizing 
associates.  I  desire  to  recommend  him  to  your  especial 
notice  until  my  return.  He  has  spent  the  last  three 
years  in  travelling,  and  will  doubtless  be  an  entertaining 
companion. 

"  Yours,  in  haste,  Dr.  Willis." 

Frank  and  Emily  both  received  Mr.  Battell  with 
heartfelt  cordiality.  There  was  that,  even  in  his  first 
appearance,  which  told  them  he  was  a  true  man. 

"  He  must  have  been  in  France  lately,"  said  Emily, 
after  his  departure  ;  "  I  think  I  can  judge  this  by  his 
mariner." 

"  He  is  very  pleasing  in  his  address,"  responded 
Frank. 

"  How  old  would  you  judge  him  to  be  ?  "  inquired 
Emily. 

"  Oh,  perhaps  twenty-five  or  thirty." 

"  Say  thirty-five  or  forty,  cousin." 

"  I  freely  acknowledge  that  ladies  are  the  best  judges 
of  a  gentleman's  age,"  replied  Frank,  "  although  Dr. 
Willis  gave  him  the  appellation  of  '  young.'  " 

"  Perhaps  Dr.  Willis  considers  every  unmarried  man 
entitled  to  that  appellation.  He  is  a  bachelor  himself, 
I  think?"  said  Emily. 

"  No,"  replied  Frank.     "  I  have  been  informed  that 


OCCURRENCES  AT  THE  SOUTH.         289 

he  lost  his  wife,  after  he  had  been  married  but  a  few- 
years,  and  that  he  has  been  incLined  to  melancholy  ever 
since." 

Dr.  Willis  we  left  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  cars. 
After  a  short  journey,  he  was  admitted  into  one  of  the 

cells  of  a  prison  in  T .     His  coat  is  buttoned  to 

the  chin  as  he  enters,  and  he  is  not  recognized  by  the 
convict.  "  My  errand  here  has  always  been  one  of 
mercy,"  said  the  doctor,  "  but  now  it  is  one  of  justice 
and  mercy." 

The  prisoner  bowed  his  head,  and  said :  "  Mercy  — 
justice  —  where  are  they  to  be  found?  Not  in  judges, 
or  jurors,  not  in  this  world.  But  I  await  them  at  a 
higher  tribunal,  and  it  will  not  be  long  hence." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  me  before  ?  "  asked  the  doctor, 
as  he  placed  the  dim  lamp  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
reflected  upon  his  face. 

The  prisoner  scrutinized  him  for  a  few  moments, 
partially  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  said: 
"  These  eyes  have  become  somewhat  dimmed  by  my 
long  confinement  in  this  darkness,  but  they  will  still 
recognize  one  who  so  unjustly  sentenced  me,  when 
scarcely  twenty  years  of  age,  to  a  living  death !  Your 
act  might  have  been  deemed  just  or  merciful ;  but  it  was 
neither!  Your  sentence  was  unjust,  for  I  was  in- 
nocent ;  and  you  performed  no  act  of  mercy.  For 
what  innocent  man  would  not  sooner  go  from  the  gal- 
lows to  a  just  tribunal  above,  than  spend  a  life  of  suf- 
fering and  shame  on  earth,  within  the  gloomy  walls 
of  a  prison  ?  " 

"  However  much  I  might  have  erred  in  judgment," 

25 


290  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

said  the  doctor,  "  it  was  meant  as  an  act  of  mercy. 
Will  you  not  forgive  me  ?" 

The  prisoner  was  silent  a  few  moments,  and  then 
said,  "  Yes,  for  I  have  found  forgiveness  for  many  acts 
in  my  past  life  which  were  wrong." 

"  And  does  not  that  prove,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that, 
even  in  case  you  were  not  guilty,  I  performed  an  act  of 
mercy  ?  Is  it  not  here  that  you  sought  and  found  that 
mercy  ?  " 

The  prisoner    nodded  assentingly,  and  then  asked : 

"  But  why  came  you  here  ?      Bring  you  aught " 

He  stopped ;  but  it  was  evident  that  there  was  hope 
excited  in  his  breast. 

"  How  would  you  meet  a  pardon  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  With  joy,  sir ! "  replied  the  prisoner,  "  if  it  was 
granted  upon  proof,  or  even  a  belief  in  my  innocence. 
Yes,  even  if  it  were  not  so  granted,  for  I  might  then  be 
able  to  prove  myself  innocent." 

The  doctor  was  much  affected  at  the  prisoner's  reply 
and  manner.  "  Well,  then,"  said  he,  with  some  hesi- 
tation, "  I  bring  you  a  pardon  from  the  governor,  based 
upon  the  conviction  of  your  innocence,  and  with  the 
hope  that  you  can  be  proven  so." 


•%   > 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

edward's  return  home. 

Edward  Le  Clare  was  sitting  in  Ms  room,  ponder- 
ing in  his  mind  the  events  of  the  last  few  weeks. 
"  Oh ! "  thought  he,  "  would  that  all  could  see  as  I  do ; 
for  then'would  they  realize  a  God  in  all  their  ways." 
Instantly  he  thought  of  the  words  of  his  mother: 
"  Unless  God,  in  his  mercy  and  for  his  own  wise  pur- 
pose, interferes  in  our  behalf,  you  know  all  that  you  or 
I  can  ever  know  of  your  father  or  Edith." 

"  I  will  write  to  Ella,"  resolved  he.  The  door  was 
just  then  opened,  and  one  of  the  students  handed  him 
a  letter.  He  glanced  at  the  superscription,  and  recog- 
nized the  handwriting  as  that  of  Dr.  Freeman.  The 
seal  was  soon  broken,  and  the-  letter  read.  "  Not  a 
minute  is  to  be  lost,"  thought  he.  "  Perhaps  I  may 
learn  something ;  and  yet,  if  he  should  die  before  I  see 
him !     I  will  start  within  the  hour." 

As  he  again  thought  of  those  oft-repeated  words 
of  his  mother,  and  lifted  his  heart  to  God,  the  youth 
felt  that  his  heavenly  Father  was  about  to  deal  with 
him  in  mercy.  It  was  with  this  confidence  that  he 
entered  the  room  of  the  sick  man,  after  arriving  at 
home,  and  he  gazed  upon  the  scene  before  him  with 
sensations  such  as  he  never  felt  before. 

There  lay  the  object  of  all  his  hopes,  in  a  raging 
fever,  utterly  unconscious  of  his  presence.      His  lips 

(291) 


292  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

sometimes  moved,  and  he  would  lift  his  hand  as  if  to 
push  from  him  some  unpleasant  object. 

"  This  is  the  fifth  day  of  his  sickness,"  said  Dr.  Free- 
man ;  "  there  may  be  a  change  by  to-morrow." 

As  the  doctor  took  his  leave,  Edward  requested  that 
he  might  be  permitted  to  sit  by  the  sick  man  alone. 
"  I  will  call  you,  Ella,"  said  he,  "  at  any  time  when  I 
find  that  assistance  is  required." 

Scarcely  was  the  door  closed,  when  Edward  was  on 
his  knees  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  With  what  feelings 
of  heart,  with  what  fervency  of  spirit,  did  he  silently 
commend  the  sick  man  to  the  mercy  of  his  Creator ! 
He  at  length  said,  aloud :  "  I  shall  know  more  of  my 
father  and  of  Edith." 

As  he  spoke,  he  was  startled  by  a  groan,  and  by 
hearing  the  name  of  Edith  repeated  by  the  invalid, 
whom  he  had  supposed  to  be  utterly  unconscious.  "  I 
must  be  more  careful,"  thought  he.  He  arose,  and 
commenced  bathing  the  head  and  temples  of  the  sick 
man  with  cold  water.  "  His  fever  is  abating,"  thought 
Edward,  and  he  continued  the  bathing  until  nearly  one 
o'clock. 

One  whole  week  did  Edward  attend  by  that  sick  bed, 
except  whenTelieved  by  Ella,  when  he  would  not  even 
then  retire,  but  sought  rest  upon  a  sofa  in  the  room. 
Most  earnestly  did  Edward  wish  that  the  gentleman 
might  recover,  for  sure  was  he  that  in  him  lay  the  only 
hope  of  solving  family  mysteries. 

After  a  severe  sickness  of  two  weeks,  it  became 
evident  to  all  that  the  stranger  was  improving,  both  in 
body  and  mind. 

"  Let  him  lake  his  own  time,  and  make  his  own 
inquiries,"  said  Dr.  Freeman,  as  he  parted  with  Edward 


THE  INVALID  STRANGER.  293 

one  morning.     "  I  think  he  is  observing  things  more 
closely." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  the  convalescent 
opened  his  eyes,  looked  at  Ella,  who  was  standing  by 
the  bedside,  and  said,  "  Emily,  child !" 

Instantly  she  stepped  aside,  and  Edward  stood  in  her 
place.  ,  "  Ah !  and  you  are  here,  too  ?  "  said  the  gentle- 
man. On  opening  his  eyes  again,  he  said :  "  How  dim 
my  sight  has  grown ;  you  do  not  look  like  yourself." 

"  How  strange ! "  thought  Ella,  as  she  looked  at 
Edward,  but  she  did  not  meet  his  look,  for  his  head 
was  bowed.     He  too  was  thinking,  "  How  strange ! " 

"  Could  the  stranger  have  meant  my  mother,"  thought 
Edward,  "when  he  pronounced  the  name  of  Emily?" 
Then  speaking  to  Ella,  he  said,  "  I  will  not  leave  him 
for  the  present." 

"  But  you  must  not  over-exert  yourself,  Edward," 
said  Ella,  "  or  we  shall  have  a  second  invalid.  Besides," 
continued  she,  "  I  am  as  anxious  to  know  what  the  sick 
man  says  as  you  can  be ;  and  I  will  remember  every 
word,  and  tell  you,  too,  just  how  he  looked  when  he 
talked." 

Edward  was  a  little  embarrassed.  "  Oh ! "  thought 
he,  "  could  she  know  all  —  could  she  know  what  I  feel ! 
But  I  must  bear  it,  as  did  my  mother,  alone."  As  he 
left  the  room,  he  longed  to  say,  "  This  is  like  all  your 
kindness,  dear  Ella,  my  more  than  sister ; "  but  he  did 
not.  When  he  returned,  Ella  told  him  the  sick  man 
had  mournfully  said,  "  I  shall  be  too  late."  "  And  he 
looked  weary,"  said  Ella,  "  as  if  he  were  speaking  to 
some  one  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  And  now, 
Edward,"  continued  Ella,  "  go  to  bed,  and  I  will  call 
you  at  a  suitable  hour." 
26* 


294  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Edward  cast  one  anxious  look  at  the  invalid,  and 
complied. 

"  How  long  have  I  been  sick  ?  "  inquired  the  patient, 
the  next  morning,  of  Dr.  Freeman,  as  he  was  sitting  by 
the  bedside.  But,  before  the  doctor  could  reply,  he 
added :  "  Your  face  is  not  familiar  to  me,  sir.  Will 
you  call  my  daughter  ?  " 

The  doctor  made  no  reply,  and  his  patient  was  soon 
quiet  again. 

As  Edward  entered,  he  looked  at  him,  and  said,  "  I 
thought  it  was  Frank."  He  then  appeared  as  if  trying 
to  recollect  himself.  After  a  minute,  he  said,  "  I  see 
how  it  is ;  I  am  ill,  and  with  strangers." 

"  That  is  it,"  said  the  doctor,  "  but  you  have  fallen 
among  those  who  feel  a  deep  interest  in  you,  and  desire 
to  do  you  good.  We  will  do  everything  in  our  power 
for  you ;  and,  as  you  are  weak,  we  desire  you  to  feel 
that  you  are  among  friends,  and  not  worry  about  it." 

The  invalid  was  silent,  and  Edward  thought  he  had 
fallen  asleep ;  but  he  beheld  his  eyes  riveted  upon  his 
own  features.  Stepping  to  the  bed,  he  asked,  "  Will 
you  have  anything  of  me  ?  "  The  sick  man  made  no 
reply. 

Dr,  Freeman  arose,  and  motioned  Edward  to  take 
his  seat  by  the  bed.  The  latter  obeyed,  and  the  sick 
man  continued  his  scrutinizing  look,  occasionally  clos- 
ing his  eyes,  however. 

At  length  he  slept  soundly,  and  Dr.  Freeman  beck- 
oned Edward  from  the  room.  "  I  think  I  understand 
the  case  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  advise  as  to  the  course 
to  be  pursued,  until  the  gentleman  recovers  his  recol- 
lection, which  he  is  fast  doing.  Ask  him  no  questions 
at  all,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  but  answer  all  his  ques- 


THE   INVALID   STRANGER.  295 

tions  correctly,  as  far  as  you  can,  without  injury  to 
yourself,  attend  upon  him  alone.  Nothing  will  con- 
duce more  to  his  recovery  than  perfect  quiet.  When 
you  need  rest,  lay  upon  the  sofa,  and  Ella  will  attend 
him.  It  is  needless  for  me  to  tell  you,  that  she  will  be 
judicious  in  her  care  of  him." 

When  Edward  returned  to  the  room,  he  found  the 
sick  man  awake.  As  he  stood  by  the  bed,  the  invalid 
made  an  effort  to  turn,  but,  finding  himself  too  weak) 
desisted.     Edward  reached,  and  took  hold  of  his  hand. 

The  invalid  looked  at  him  in  a  land  and  grateful 
manner,  and  asked,  "  Is  there  not  a  young  lady  in  the 
room  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Edward. 

"  May  I  ask  her  name  ?  " 

"  Ella  Erskine." 

"  I  think  my  head  is  not  quite  right,"  said  the  inva- 
lid, "  and  my  eyes  seem  weak.  Perhaps  I  have  been 
delirious?"  and  he  looked  inquiringly  at  Edward. 

"  You  have  been  so,"  was  the  answer. 

"  In  that  state,  I  probably  said  many  wild  things ; 

but  I  trust  no  one  would  be  disposed "      Here  he 

stopped,  and  looked  at  Edward  in  a  scrutinizing  manner. 

"  I  pledge  myself,"  said  Edward,  "  that  you  have 
said  nothing  to  the  disadvantage  of  any  one,  since  your 
illness.  Your  delirium  has  not  been  of  a  kind  to  make 
you  very  communicative." 

The  invalid  appeared  satisfied,  and  soon  after  was 
sleeping  soundly. 

Edward  approached  the  table,  and,  taldng  the  Bible, 
reseated  himself  by  the  bed.  His  mind  was  directed  to 
the  promise  of  God,  to  be  "  the  support  of  those  who 


296  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

put  their  trust  in  him."  "  Oh ! "  thought  he,  "  I  will 
trust  him  forever :  for  his  promises  are  sure." 

Fearing  that  the  invalid  was  sleeping  too  long,  Ed- 
ward placed  his  hand  gently  upon  his  shoulder.  The 
gentlemen  groaned,  and  his  lips  moved.  Edward  bent 
his  head,  as  the  invalid  pronounced  the  name  of 
"  Edith."  He  awoke,  and  said,  "  I  am  coming,  Emily. 
All  lost, did  you  say?"  He  looked  at  Edward  in  sur- 
prise, and  then  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  door,  as  if 
expecting  to  see  some  one  else.  He  at  length  said, 
"  Why  did  she  not  stay  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  dreaming,"  remarked  Edward. 
"  There  has  been  no  one  in  the  room  but  myself." 

"  Dreaming ! "  said  the  invalid.  "  I  have  surely  seen 
her,  or  an  angel  so  like  her,  that  I  am  sure  she  must  be 
dead." 

"  You  have  been  dreaming,"  repeated  Edward,  "  for 
there  has  been  no  one  in  the  room  but  myself.  You 
are  very  weak  indeed." 

"  Yes,  I  am  weak,"  said  the  invalid.  "  I  see  how  it  is, 
but  I  must  go ;  I  cannot  stay."  And  he  made  an  effort 
to  rise  from  the  bed.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  am  indeed  weak;  but 
you  will  call  a  carriage,  for  I  tell  you  I  must  go." 

"  You  must  wait  a  few  days,"  said  Edward,  "  for  it 
would  endanger  your  life." 

"  Life  ! "  said  the  invalid,  wildly.  "  What  know 
you  of  life  ?  Life  is  nothing  to  me,  unless  I  may  go. 
To  fail  is  death,  —  death  —  eternal  death ! " 

Edward  became  agitated.  "  Be  calm,  stranger,"  said 
he ;  "I  beseech  you,  be  calm,"  placing  one  hand  sooth- 
ingly on  his  brow. 

The  invalid  was  exhausted ;  he  fixed  his  eyes  im- 
ploringly upon  Edward,  but  did  not  speak. 


THE  INVALID  STRANGER.  297 

But  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  record  all  the  sayings 
and  doings  in  that  sick  room,  or  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
Edward.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Dr.  Freeman,  who 
never  omitted  either  his  morning  or  evening  visits, 
pronounced  his  patient  better  each  time,  and  still  re- 
commended the  same  course  to  Edward. 

"  I  think  his  mind  is  becoming  sound,"  said  the  doc- 
tor one  morning  to  Edward,  in  the  presence  of  Ella 
and  Mrs.  Wise. 

"  And  he  seems  less  communicative,"  said  EdwTard. 

"  I  doubt,"  said  Ella,  "  if  he  remembers  coming  to 
the  house  at  all." 

"  He  may  remember  that,"  observed  Mrs.  Wise ;  "  but 
I  think  his  mind  was  not  clear  at  the  time." 

"  No,"  said  Dr.  Freeman,  "  I  think  he  must  have  been 
quite  sick  for  several  days  before,  judging  from  his  con- 
dition after  I  saw  him." 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  stranger  to  Edward,  one  morn- 
ing, "  that  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  pursue  my  journey. 
I  have  doubtless  made  a  mistake,  during  my  illness,  and 
imagined  you  to  be  a  friend  whom  I  left  behind  me, 
for  I  have  now  some  recollection  of  thinking  so.  Still, 
it  seems  to  me,  now,  that  your  face  resembles  one  that 
I  have  seen." 

Then,  turning  to  Ella,  he  added,  "  I  have  a  daugh- 
ter ;  methinks  she  resembles  you  in  kindness." 

"  You  probably  do  not  remember,"  said  Ella,  "  com- 
ing to  this  place  at  all." 

"  It  has  been  lost  to  me,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  but  I 
now  recollect  entering  a  house,  and  ordering  dinner, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  inquiring  for  a  carriage,  that  I 
might  proceed  on  my  journey.  Soon  afterwards  I  felt 
very  ill.      That  is  all,  until,  on  coming  to  myself,   I 


298  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

found  that  I  had  been  conveyed  to  this  chamber.  I 
was  then  probably  somewhat  bewildered,  for  I  had 
been  sick»several  days." 

Ella  glanced  at  Edward,  and,  meeting  an  approving 
look,  observed :  "  That  was  not  the  way  in  which 
you  came  here.  You  must  have  lost  some  time,  which 
you  will  probably  yet  recover ;  for  this  is  not  an  inn, 
but  a  private  house." 

The  stranger  then  arose  to  his  feet;  Edward  offered 
him  his  arm,  and  he  looked  out  at  the  window. 
"  Where  am  I  ?  "  demanded  he,  with  evident  emotion. 

<»  In  C ,"  replied  Ella. 

"  And  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Ella  Erskine,  sir." 

"  And  who  are  you  ? "  asked  the  stranger,  as  he 
turned  to  Edward. 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Le  Clare." 

"  Oh  God ! "  said  the  stranger  as  he  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  Edward ;  then,  instantly  withdrawing  them,  he 
seemed  anxious  to  recover  his  self-possession. 

At  this  time,  Ella,  as  if  conscious  that  such  was  the 
wish  of  the  stranger,  withdrew. 

Scarcely  had  she  closed  the  door,  ere  the  stranger 
said,  "  Is  your  name  Edward  Le  Clare  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Am  I  in  the  town  of  C ,  and  in  the  house  of 

Mrs.  Emily  Le  Clare  ?  "  asked  the  gentleman. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  where  is  she  ?  " 

"She  is  dead,"  sadly  responded  Edward;  "but  if 
purity  of  life,  and  a  holy  trust  in  God,  who  alone  was 
her  support  through  life,  are  acceptable  to  him,  then  is 
she  now  an  angel ! " 


THE  INVALID  STKANGER.  299 

"  And  what  am  I  ?  "  groaned  the  stranger.  "  Lost  — 
condemned  —  ruined !  I  can  never  find  mercy  ;  I  can- 
not so  much  as  lift  up  mine  eyes  to  ask  it."  And  he 
pressed  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  while  he  was  appa- 
rently overcome  with  emotion. 

"You  must  rest,"  said  Edward,  soothingly  —  "rest 
until  you  are  stronger." 

"  I  cannot  rest,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  am  lost — I  am 
eternally  lost ! " 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  said  Edward.  "  All  can  be 
saved,  who  seek  for  mercy,  through  faith  in  Christ." 

The  stranger  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  while  his 
eyes  were  closed ;  and  then  he  said :  "  No,  you  are  mis- 
taken. There  is  no  mercy  for  me  —  all  is  so  dark ! 
Nor  is  there  any  rest,"  continued  he,  "  for  she  cannot 
speak  to  me  words  of  forgiveness.  I  was  rightly 
warned,  '  it  is  now  too  late.'  I  must  have  been  delirious 
for  a  long  time  —  yea,  for  years  —  or  I  would  not  have 
thus  delayed."  He  looked  at  Edward,  who  was  in 
vain  striving  to  hide  his  emotion,  and  added:  "Ask  me 
not  to  rest.  I  have  not  long  to  stay  on  earth.  I  must 
soon  meet  her  at  the  judgment,  and  hear  my  sentence. 
And  I  have  much  to  say,  much  to  do ! " 

"  Do  not  talk  so,"  said  Edward,  with  much  feeling. 
"  I  will  pray  for  you.     You  must  not  despair." 

"  You  !  "  cried  the  stranger.  "  My  name  is  Edward 
Le  Rux."  And  he  fixed  his  eyes  full  upon  the  young 
man,  as  if  to  read  his  thoughts. 

Edward  again  said :  "  I  will  pray  for  you." 

"  You  !  "  repeated  the  stranger.  "  I  am  your  father  I 
Can  you  pray  for  me  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear  father!"  said  Edward,  as  he  dropped  upon 


300  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

his  knees  beside  him,  while  his  heart  seemed  bursting 
with  mingled  emotions. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  silent. 

Edward's  voice  trembled,  and,  for  a  few  minutes,  he 
could  not  shut  out  the  scenes  of  ihe  past.  But  at 
length  he  triumphed,  and  his  spirit  was  lifted  up  :  he 
seemed  to  hold  converse  with  God. 

As  he  arose  from  his  knees,  his  father  took  his  hand, 
pressed  it  fervently,  drew  it  to  his  lips,  then  relinquished 
it,  and  closed  his  eyes.  Edward  thought  he  rested  ; 
and  the  gentleman  did,  at  length,  fall  into  a  quiet  sleep. 
Edward  did  not  leave  him.  A  calmness  overspread 
his  spirit,  which  he  had  not  felt  since  reaching  home. 

"  Unless  God  in  his  mercy  interfere,"  thought  he, 
as  his  mother  seemed  to  stand  before  him,  as  she  had 
done  when  she  had  spoken  the  words.  "  Lost !  No, 
my  father  is  not  lost ;  he  will  yet  find  mercy,  for  it  was 
ever  her  prayer,  'that,  if  he  still  lived,  he  might  seek 
and  find  forgiveness  of  God.'  " 

Mr.  Le  Rux  slept  nearly  an  hour,  when  Ella  entered 
the  room,  in  order  to  relieve  Edward  from  his  long 
watching.  Edward,  however,  said  he  did  not  feel 
weary,  and  she  again  retired. 

After  Ella  left,  Mr.  Le  Rux  said :  "  Edward,  it  is  not 
from  experimental  knowledge  that  a  trust  and  confi- 
dence in  God  will  enable  us  to  pass  through  trials  and 
afflictions  with  a  fortitude  which  nothing  else  can  give, 
that  I  rejoice  to  find  your  mind  thus  stayed ;  but  be- 
cause I  have  seen  it  in  others.  I  have  much  to  tell  you 
that  will  distress  and  shock  you." 

Edward  was  silent,  and  his  father  continued :  "  I  feel 
that  my  time  is  short ;  although  I  hope  to  be  spared 
until  I  shall   have  performed  a  few  duties  devolving 


THE   INVALID    STRANGER.  301 

upon  mc  before  I  enter  upon  that  eternal  punishment 
which  I  cannot  escape !  God  grant  that  you  may  be 
sustained,  my  son.  How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of 
Him  who  created  all  things,  and  who  alone  can  par- 
don ;  and  who,  though  He  will  shut  me  out  from 
heaven,  '  dealeth  justly,  and  loveth  mercy.' " 
26 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE    MYSTERY    OF    EDWARD'S    PARENTAGE    EXPLAINED. 

"  Dear  Edward,  you  must  understand  that  my  name 
is  not  Le  Clare,  but  Edward  Le  Rux.  I  was  born  in 
the  vicinity  of  New  Orleans,  June  4,  18 — .  My  father's 
name  was  William  Le  Rux.  He  had  descended  from 
one  of  the  proudest  families  in  France,  and  often  spoke 
of  his  nobility,  and  of  his  long  line  of  aristocratic 
ancestors.  But,  beside  him,  there  was  none  now  left 
to  bear  up  or  boast  the  name. 

"  My  father  was  a  slaveholder,  and  very  cruel  to  his 
slaves.  My  mother,  on  the  contrary,  was  naturally 
land,  although  proud  and  aristocratic.  The  love  of 
money  was  the  root  of  all  evil  with  my  father. 

"  I  was  not  more  than  six  years  old,  when  there  was 
brought  into  the  house  a  child.  Never  shall  I  forget  the 
appearance  of  our  kind  old  nurse,  when  she  first  brought 
the  child  into  the  room,  where  she  had  left  me,  when  my 
father  called  her;  for,  large  as  I  was,  she  had  been 
holding  me  upon  her  knee,  and  telling  me  of  her  old 
home,  and  of  her  little  boy,  whom,  she  said,  my  father 
had  sold  when  he  was  about  as  large  as  I  then  was ; 
declaring,  while  I  could  see  the  big  tears  rolling  down 
her  cheeks,  that  she  loved  him  just  as  well  as  my 
mother  loved  me.  I  was  sorely  grieved  at  her  recital, 
and  loud  in  my  exclamations.  This  was  one  of  my  first 
impressions  of  our  wicked  system  of  slavery.       My 

(302) 


THE  MYSTERY  EXPLAINED.  303 

nurse  looked  sharply  at  the  little  girl,  and  declared, 
'  She's  jest  no  nigger,  any  how.'  Then,  turning  to  me, 
she  said  :  '  She's  jest's  good's  you,  Eddy,  an'  she  ain't 
no  more  a  nigger,  'kase  I  jest  knows,  an'  I  '11  jest  war- 
rant 'er  moder  's  half  dead  'bout  'er.' 

"  The  child  was  frightened,  and  said  something  which 
Margaret  did  not  understand,  at  the  same  time  begin- 
ning to  cry. 

'"If  I  jest  know'd  whar  your  moder  is,'  said  Mar- 
garet to  the  child,  '  I  'd  take  you  to  'er,  an'  den,  if  she 
would  n't  buy  me,  I  'd  run  off  wid  ye,  for  you  're  jest  de 
sweetest  t'ing  I  eber  seed,  an'  you  ain't  mor'n  tree 
years  old,  noder.' 

"  I  myself  also  thought  that  she  was  the  sweetest  child 
I  had  ever  seen,  and  that  she  was  '  no  nigger.'  Marga- 
ret proceeded  to  disrobe  her ;  and,  on  removing  her  skirt, 
she  found  something  attached  to  it  by  a  cord  on  the 
inside,  which  she  examined  attentively,  and  placed  in 
her  bosom.     Then,  turning  to  me;  she  said : 

" '  Eddy,  don't  you  lub  ole  nurse  ? ' 

"  I  was  not  ashamed  to  tell  the  truth,  and  I  said, '  Yes.' 

" '  Well,  den,'  said  she, '  don't  you  tell  mas'r  or  missis 
what  you  see  me  take  from  dis  baby,  an'  den  I  '11  tell 
you  great  many  purty  stories.  Ole  Maggy  don't  want 
it,  'kase  she  don't  want  nothin'  but  'er  chil'ren.  But 
she  jest  wants  to  keep  it,  'kase  dis  is  somebody's  chile, 
an'  I  jest  b'lieves  she  '11  be  your'n  little  wife,  Eddy,  if 
dar  's  anyt'ing  in  dreams  —  an'  missis  say  dar  be,  an'  I 
jest  knows  dar  be,  'kase  I  seed  'er  last  night,  in  my 
dreams,  'fore  dey  bring  'er  here.' 

"  By  this  time,  my  childish  imagination  was  well 
aroused,  and  it  could  stretch  far  beyond  the  conceptions 
of  old  Margaret.     "Whether  Margaret  had  been  enlight- 


304  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

ened  by  a  dream  or  not,  her  remarks  made  such  an 
impression  upon  my  mind  that  I  never  ceased  to  love 
the  little  girl,  or  think  of  her  as  my  little  wife. 

"  When  the  pretty  creature  was  arrayed  in  her  new 
coarse  dress,  Margaret  stood  at  a  little  distance,  making 
faces,  which,  I  afterwards  learned,  were  indicative  of 
her  displeasure  and  disgust.  The  old  nurse  then  said : 
"  Dey  neber  can  make  a  nigger  ob  'er,  an'  it 's  jest  a 
rael  shame  for  'em  to  try,  for  she  ain't  eben  a  quartoon, 
as  mas'r  say.  Den  ole  Maggy  knows  dey  jest  kidnap 
'er,  an'  dey  won't  hab  no  marcy  on  'er,  neder.  But  I 
jest  b'lieves  I  '11  allers  'member  'bout  it."  And  she  put 
her  hand  to  her  bosom,  to  see  if  the  trinket  she  had 
taken  from  the  skirt  was  safe. 

"  After  attending  to  our  suppers,  Margaret  put  the  lit- 
tle girl  into  her  own  bed,  which  was  not  much  like  my 
nice  one,  which  she  drew  out  before  her  own ;  and  then 
she  sat  down  to  perform  her  evening's  task. 

"  '  She  's  jest  grieved  near  'bout  to  death,'  said  Mar- 
garet, '  or  I  '11  warrant  she  would  n't  ha'  sobb'd  'erself  to 
sleep.' " 

"  But  sleep  would  not  come  to  my  eyes,  for  the  lovely 
little  girl  was  before  my  mind,  and  I  wished  that  I 
could  even  lie  upon  the  bare  floor,  if,  by  that  means, 
she  could  have  my  bed,  with  its  clean  sheets,  and 
white  counterpane.  And  I  wondered  if  her  mother  was 
any  like  my  mother ;  whether  she  wore  such  beautiful 
jewels  in  her  ears  and  on  her  fingers  —  whether  she 
was  crying,  or  scolding  the  nurse,  because  her  little 
child  was  lost. 

"  From  that  time,  all  my  childish  hopes  were  cen- 
tered on  the  beautiful  unknown.  Few  persons,  per- 
haps, have  ever  been  called  to  look  back,  and  trace  an 


THE  MYSTERY  EXPLAINED.  305 

event,  which  occurred  at  such  an  early  period  of  their 
life,  and  been  able  to  scan  it  in  such,  a  manner,  as  to 
perceive  that  it  served  to  fix  their  destiny  for  life  —  yea, 
I  may  say,  for  an  eternity.  But  the  thoughts  of  my 
heart  on  that  night  were  pure,  natural,  and  unavoidable. 
And  as  they  were  afterwards  fed  by  Margaret,  to  whose 
care  I  was  entirely  entrusted,  they  thus  became  the  con- 
trolling ideas  of  my  boyhood,  and  shaped  my  whole 
career. 

"  Mag  —  as  we  called  her  —  had  a  sort  of  '  second 
sight,'  which  enabled  her  to  discern  the  future.  My 
mother  was  sometimes  quite  superstitious,  and  often 
declared  that,  if  there  ever  was  such  a  being  as  a  witch, 
Mag  must  be  one.  She  was  so  useful  in  her  position 
in  the  family,  that  mother  could  not  think  of  selling 
her,  yet  Mag  was  forbidden  to  mix  with  the  other 
slaves,  lest  they  should  be  injured  by  some  influence 
she  would  exert  over  them.  But  to  her  care  was  I 
entrusted  almost  entirely.  I  loved  her,  for  she  loved 
me,  and  seldom  denied  me  anything. 

"  My  father  had  forbidden  her  to  take  the  little  slave 
girl,  to  whom  he  gave  the  name  of  '  Judy,'  anywhere, 
except  into  the  back  yard,  or  into  a  field  which  ex- 
tended beyond  the  garden,  whither  I  always  attended 
her. 

"  My  mother  was  fond  of  pleasure,  but  she  never 
could  think  of  being  troubled  with  me  in  the  carriage. 
'  There  is  time  enough  for  Master  Eddy  yet,'  she  would 
say.  She  sometimes  consented  that  my  brother  Wil- 
liam might  attend  her  on  a  ride.  '  He  is  really  very 
funny,'  she  would  sometimes"  say,  'and  often  diverts 
me  by  his  remarks.'  Besides,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
whom  my  mother  met,  noticed  him  a  great  deal.  But 
26* 


306  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

she  said  I  was  '  always  so  stupid.'  I  was  '  like  an  old 
man,  who  had  arrived  at  his  second  childhood,' — 
always  lost  in  my  own  thoughts,  if,  indeed,  I  had  any 
thoughts,  —  so  that  she  would  have  to  speak  to  me  the 
second  time  before  I  would  hear.  She  hoped,  however, 
thatj[  would  be  able  to  leave  the  nursery  before  I  was 
old  enough  to  be  married. 

"  These  remarks  were  frequently  heard  by  me,  and 
each  in  turn  were  treasured  up  in  my  childish  memory. 
It  was  hard  to  believe  that  my  mother  had  told  an  un- 
truth, or  even  that  she  had  made  a  mistake.  I  believed 
myself  to  be  just  what  she  had  said ;  and  that  the  same 
was  true  in  regard  to  William. 

"  William  was  like  my  mother  —  naturally  kind  and 
impulsive  in  disposition.  I  believe  he  loved  me 
ardently,  but  he  seldom  gave  me,  or  indeed  any  one, 
more  than  a  passing  notice.  He  would  sometimes  ap- 
peal to  my  mother  in  my  behalf,  when  the  carriage 
stood  at  the  door,  that  I  might  be  permitted  to  go. 
But,  when  she  would  reply,  '  Oh !  he  is  so  much  trouble ; ' 
or  ' he  is  so  dull ; '  or  'I  am  going  to  call  on  Mrs.  this, 
or  that,'  William  would  give  me  a  pleasant  look,  or 
perhaps  say,  '  I  '11  fetch  you  something,  Eddy.'  Then, 
in  fine  spirits,  he  would  enter  the  carriage,  and  be 
driven  from  the  house,  without  even  a  second  look, 
while  my  mother  would  regard  him  as  if  he  were  to  be 
the  hero  of  the  day,  or  as  if  in  him  were  centered  all 
her  hopes. 

"I  shunned  my  mother  and  William,  and  finally 
even  ceased  to  wish  to  ride ;  nor  did  I  often  appear  on 
the  veranda,  or  in  the  front  yard.  All  I  now  wished, 
was  to  pass  my  time  with  Judy,  either  in  the  nursery, 
in  the  back  yard,  or  in  the  field,  where  she  was  per- 


THE    MYSTERY   EXPLAINED.  307 

mitted  to  play  and  ramble.  Happiness  was  felt  only- 
while  in  her  company.-  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to 
you,  and  strange  as  it  now  seems  to  me,  my  mother 
gave  Margaret  great  credit  for  keeping  me  from  run- 
ning with  Judy. 

"  My  father  had  forbidden  Margaret  to  let  Judy  wear 
a  bonnet,  wash  her  face,  or  comb  her  hair ;  but  had  or- 
dered her  to  send  her  out  on  hot  sunny  days,  into  the 
open  air  or  field.  This  excited  Margaret's  indignation ; 
but  it  was  only  in  my  presence  that  she  dared  speak  of 
it,  which  she  did  by  declaring,  in  plain  terms,  that '  dey 
wanted  to  make  de  sweet  little  t'ing  look  like  a  nigger.' 

"  There  was  a  small  stream  running  through  the  field 
where  she  was  permitted  to  go.  On.  reaching  it,  I 
would  wash  Judy's  face  and  hands  clean,  wipe  them 
with  my  apron,  then  lead  her  gently  to  a  seat,  and  with 
my  fingers  smooth  her  ringlets  nicely ;  after  which  I 
would  lead  her  to  the  house,  into  the  presence  of  Marga- 
ret, and  bid  her  look  at  my  little  wife.  At  such  times, 
Margaret  would  utter  an  exclamation  expressive  of  ad- 
miration ;  would  turn  the  little  girl,  first  one  way,  then 
the  other,  gaze  earnestly  upon  her,  and  say :  '  Eddy, 
my  boy,  Judy  ain't  no  nigger,  not  even  a  quatroon. 
She's  just  some  big  lady's  child  —  maybe  she's  a 
queen's.'  But  whatever  the  old  nurse  said,  she  always 
ended  with,  'Judy  's  jest  as  good  as  you,  or  any  body; 
an'  she  '11  be  your  wife,  Eddy.' 

"  Sometimes  I  would  ask  Margaret  to  let  me  see 
the  trinket  which  she  had  taken  from  Judy's  skirt. 
But  she  would  put  on  a  wise  face,  shake  her  head,  and 
say :  '  Oh  no !  mus'n't  look  at  dat,  no  how ;  'kase  I 
means  to  keep  dat  till  I  finds  'er  moder.  An'  don't 
you  neber  tell  'bout  dat,  Eddy.' 


308  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Thus,  year  after  year  rolled  on.  I  do  not  mention 
this  as  being  in  any  sense  an  apology  for  my  after  life, 
hut  that  you  may  see  the  absurdity,  the  danger,  and 
even  the  guilt,  of  the  course  pursued  by  my  parents,  as 
well  as  by  thousands  of  others,  who  are  dealers  in  flesh 
and  blood. 

"  For  years  was  I  given  in  charge  of  Margaret,  who 
had  been  taught  no  more  virtue  than  a  brute,  in  regard 
to  the  other  sex  — -  who  was  herself  subjected  to  the  en- 
tire will  of  master  and  overseer  in  everything.  And  yet 
she  possessed  natural  discernment  far  beyond  many 
of  the  white  race. 

"  Under  such  circumstances,  was  it  any  wonder  that 
my  mind  grew  up  to  weeds  ?  or  that  millions,  placed 
in  like  circumstances,  have  their  characters  poisoned  in 
their  childhood?  Assuredly,  such  is  the  case  with 
both  sexes !  Let  him  beware,  my  son,  who  weds  a 
daughter,  or  sister,  or  widow  of  a  Southern  aristocratic 
slaveholder !  Fathers  who  sell  their  own  offspring  into 
perpetual  bondage,  and  count  it  no  dishonor,  think 
themselves  men.  But  they  are  not  men ;  they  have 
fallen  from  their  moral  manhood,  and  I  know  not  what 
to  call  them! 

"  Their  daughters  and  wives  have  the  same  example, 
the  same  temptation,  as  the  sons  and  fathers.  They 
have  also  the  same  training.  And,  although  it  is  wrong, 
yet  the  odium  which  is  attached  to  the  female,  more 
than  to  the  male,  who  commits  the  same  sin,  forces 
them  to  hide  their  guilt.  But  it  is  my  opinion  that,  as 
with  the  slaveholder,  so  is  it  with  his  wife :  as  with  the 
son,  so  with  the  daughter.  But  the  mother  and  daugh- 
ter cannot,  so  easily  as  the  husband  and  son,  conceal 


THE   MYSTERY   EXPLAINED.  309 

their  guilt.  No  matter  if  old  nurse  is  ordered  to  com- 
mit infanticide  —  let  her  breathe  it,  if  she  dare. 

"  Tremble ! "  said  Mr.  Le  Rux,  impressively,  "  oh, 
ye  mothers,  ye  fathers,  ye  sons,  ye  daughters,  ye  hus- 
bands and  wives  of  the  South ;  '  for  there  is  nothing 
covered,  which  shall  not  be  revealed,  nor  hid,  which 
shall  not  be  made  known.'  " 

Mr.  Le  Rux  remained  silent,  in  much  agitation,  for 
some  minutes,  and  then  continued :  "  I  have  digressed. 
Pardon  me,  my  son :  you  know  not  what  I  feel  —  you 
know  not  the  extent  or  the  evil  of  slavery.  It  is  high 
as  heaven !  for  its  groans,  '  have  entered  into  the  ear  of 
the  Lord  of  Sabaoth.'  It  is  deep  as  hell,  for  it  has 
driven  its  thousands  to  that  dark  abode ! ' 

"  When  I  was  old  enough  to  attend  school,  I  could 
hardly  content  myself  to  be  separated  from  Judy  such 
a  length  of  time ;  and  she,  although  so  young,  was 
much  grieved  that  she  could  not  go  to  school  with  me. 
But  here  Margaret  came  to  our  relief.  I  could  teach 
Judy  to  read.  She  went  straight  to  her  depository  — 
though,  with  all  my  searching,  I  could  not  at  that  time 
find  out  where  it  was  —  and  brought  forward  a  part 
of  a  spelling-book,  saying:  'Mas'r  Eddy,  you's  big 
'nuff  for  a  school-mas'r,  an'  you  can  show  de  letters  to 
Judy  jest  as  well 's  anybody.  Your  fader  an'  moder 
need  n't  know  nothin'  't  all  'bout  it.'  And  it  became 
my  delight  to  do  so. 

"  When  I  was  ten  years  of  age,  and  Judy  probably 
about  seven,  I  was  attacked  with  severe  sickness,  and 
my  father  employed  a  physician  by  the  name  of  Willis, 
who,  though  young  in  his  profession  and  almost  a 
stranger,  had  won  the  confidence  of  my  father,  by  hav- 
ing managed  the  fevers,  prevalent  in  our  climate,  more 


310  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

successfully  than  any  of  the  other  practitioners.  I  was 
sick  several  weeks ;  and  then,  as  well  as  when  I  was  in 
health,  my  parents  entrusted  me  entirely  to  the  care  of 
Margaret,  only  coming  in,  occasionally,  to  see  me,  and 
inquire  how  I  was. 

"  By  this  time,  Judy's  complexion  was  somewhat 
browned,  though  Margaret  still  boasted  that  '  dey 
couldn't,  no  how,  make  even  a  quatroon  of  'er.'  She 
was  now  large  enough  to  be  of  some  assistance  to 
Margaret,  and  she  would  sit  by  my  side,  and  give  me 
such  potions  as  were  necessary  for  me  to  take,  when 
Margaret  was  otherwise  engaged. 

"  Dr.  Willis  took  a  great  interest  in  Judy,  and  gave 
her  the  appellations  of  '  little  nurse,'  and  '  sister  of  char- 
ity.' Judy  was  not  a  child  of  many  words,  although, 
when  freed  from  restraint  by  the  presence  of  others,  she 
was  as  merry  as  a  lark.  The  doctor  would  often  look 
at  her  for  several  minutes  together,  and  then,  approach- 
ing her,  take  hold  of  her  hair,  and  twist  her  curls  upon 
his  fingers,  at  which  time  he  would  appear  much  puz- 
zled. I  noticed  that  he  was  sometimes  engaged  in 
low  conversation  with  Margaret;  and  I  was  led  to  be- 
lieve they  were  talking  of  Judy.  It  always  pleased 
me,  for  I  thought  he  was  praising  her. 

"  But  I  must  hasten,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux,  with  a  sigh, 
"  although  it  is  a  theme  on  which  I  love  to  dwell..  It  is 
sufficient  for  me  to  say  that  Judy  had  every  good  qual- 
ity, in  my  estimation,  and  that  I  continued  to  feel  the 
deepest  interest  in  her.  My  mother  had  also  marked 
her  good  qualities.  After  my  recovery,  I  was  admitted 
more  frequently  into  my  mother's  room ;  and  she  then 
took  it  into  her  head  that  Judy  could  serve  her  as  an 
attendant.     Mother  had  her  dressed  quite  neatly,  and 


THE  MYSTERY  EXPLAINED.  311 

kept  in  her  room ;  and  it  was, '  Judy,  hand  me  this,' 
and,  '  Judy,  do  that  for  me.' 

"  Judy's  nature  was  to  love,  and  she  soon  loved  my 
mother.  She  was  always  obedient  and  attentive  to 
her  wishes.  She  did  not  in  the  least  forget  Margaret, 
but  would  fly  to  her,  in  my  mother's  absence,  and  spend 
her  time  as  if  she  wanted  to  make  the  old  nurse  happy. 
Her  manners  were  soon  improved ;  for  my  mother 
learned  her  to  be  a  genteel  waiter.  Everything  must 
be  'genteel'  about  her." 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

EARLY  HISTORY    OF  EDWARD  LE    RUX. MORE  MYSTERIES 

EXPLAINED. 

"  Dr.  Willis  called  often  at  our  house,  and  my  mother 
remarked  that  it  was  '  quite  interesting  to  hear  him  re- 
late the  incidents  connected  with  his  travels.'  She  also 
pronounced  him  l  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  exceedingly 
well  bred,'  which  she  attributed  to  his  residence  in 
the  South,  and  the  advantages  he  had  received  from 
travelling,  by  being  admitted  into  the  higher  circles  of 
society.  Said  she :  '  He  is  a  Northern  man  by  birth, 
and  they  are  a  very  awkward  set,  and  even  perform  the 
meanest  offices  for  each  other,  such  as  our  negroes  do 
for  us,'  —  adding,  that  she  did  '  not  suppose  there  was 
a  real  gentleman  or  lady  in  the  North,  according  to  the 
true  acceptation  of  the  term,  except,  perhaps,  now  and 
then  one  like  Dr.  Willis,  who  had  travelled,  or  resided 
long  enough  at  the  South  to  acquire  our  manners  and 
address.' 

"  Dr.  Willis  always  spoke  to  me  in  a  kind  manner, 
and,  if  Judy  was  not  present,  would  inquire  for  my 
little  nurse.  At  such  times,  when  not  prevented  by 
my  mother,  I  would  call  her.  He  would  often  bring 
each  of  us  a  small  present,  and  when  Judy  thanked 
him,  in  her  sweet  way,  he  would  compliment  my 
mother  upon  her  faculty  in  training  the  little  girl  to  be 

(312) 


•       THE  SLAVEHOLDER'S  SON.  313 

genteel.     This   stimulated  my  mother  to  take   extra 
pains  with  Judy. 

"  At  this  time,  I  felt  that  my  mother's  affection  had 
increased  for  me.  'You  have  really  improved  very 
much,'  she  would  say,  '  though  you  never  will  be  like 
William.  You  are  becoming  very  much  like  one  of 
my  brothers,  who  went  to  Italy  and  died.'  My  mother 
was  deeply  affected  when  she  spoke  thus. 

"  Well,"  continued  Mr.  Le  Rux,  "  I  believe  my 
mother  learned  to  love  Judy ;  and,  as  Dr.  Willis  re- 
marked upon  the  importance  of  having  genteel  atten- 
dants, and  the  danger  there  would  be  in  suffering  her 
to  mingle  with  the  more  vulgar  slaves,  my  mother  con- 
cluded thai>  it  must  not  be.  '  I  shall  soon,'  she  would 
say,  '  have  a  waiter  who  will  astonish  all  who  call  at 
the  house.  There  is  quite  a  difference  in  the  race, 
even  among  the  quadroons." 

" '  Why  don't  you  teach  your  little  nurse  to  read  ? ' 
asked  Dr.  Willis  of  me,  one  day,  in  the  presence  of 
my  mother.  Then,  turning  to  my  mother,  he  added  : 
'I  have  often  thought  how  pleasant  it  would  be,  if 
Judy  could  read  to  you.  It  certainly  is  a  very  import- 
ant qualification  for  a  waiter  or  nurse.  I  have  wondered 
that  this  class  were  not  instructed  sufficiently  to  be 
able  to  read  or  write  for  their  mistresses.  You  will 
probably  keep  Judy  as  long  as  you  live,  and  how  ex- 
ceedingly pleasant  it  would  be  to  have  her  able  to  read 
to  you.  Your  eyes  are  somewhat  weak,  now;  and, 
when  you  become  older,  perhaps  they  will  fail  you  en- 
tirely.' 

"  My   mother  seemed   quite   thoughtful  for  several 
minutes,  and  then  said,  '  I  am  sure  it  would  be  one  of 
the  finest  things  in  the  world.' 
27 


314  THE    0U88A  ENTAILED. 

" '  Yes,'  continued  the  doctor,  '  I  like  to  have  some 
one  read  to  me,  when  I  am  fatigued,  or  a  little  unwell.' 

" '  But  it  cannot  be  done,'  replied  my  mother ;  '  Judy 
could  not  be  admitted  into  the  school.' 

" '  Master  Edward  would  teach  her  to  read  in  a  short 
time,'  said  the  doctor. 

" '  Oh  yes,'  said  I, '  Judy  learns  very  fast '  I  checked 

myself,  and  added  :  '  She  learns  everything  which  my 
mother  teaches  her  very  quick.' 

"  It  was  soon  arranged  that  I  should  teach  Judy  to 
read ;  but  this  should  be  done  in  Margaret's  room,  as 
we  would  be  liable  to  be  interrupted  in  my  mother's. 

"  Margaret  was  instructed  accordingly,  with  the 
injunction  not  to  tell  any  one  about  it. 

" '  O  law's,  no ! '  said  Margaret,  slightly  vexed. 
'  S'pose  I  '11  go  to  telt  'bout  dat  ?  I  neber  does  such 
t'ings — missis  know' dat  well  'nufF.  Missis  knows  I 
neber  tell  'bout  such  t'ings.' 

"  Margaret  was  going  on ;  but  my  mother  said,  while 
her  face  became  quite  flushed :  '  Well,  well,  that's  right. 
I  always  knew  you  could  be  trusted.' 

"  About  one  month  subsequent  to  this,  Dr.  Willis 
called,  and,  after  chatting  with  my  mother  awhile,  bade 
me  summon  Judy,  and  let  him  hear  her  read  and 
spell.  I  obeyed,  and  stood  before  her,  with  all  the 
important  bearing  of  a  teacher.  She  commenced  in 
her  book  at  'crucifix,'  and  went  forward  to  several 
harder  tables,  which  she  read  with  great  ease,  pronounc- 
ing all  her  words  correctly.  I  then  put  words  to  her, 
and  she  spelled  equally  well. 

"My  mother  was  much  astonished. 

"  The  doctor  praised  boih  teacher  and  scholar;  but 
1  thought  he  must  have  been  informed  by  Margaret  ol' 


THE  slaveholder's  SOX.  315 

Judy's  being  taught  before  my  illness.  He  remarked, 
however,  that  it  was  '  astonishing  how  fast  children 
would  learn ; '  exhorted  both  me  and  Judy  to  persever- 
ance, and  congratulated  my  mother  upon  the  prospect. 
It  was  the  pleasantest  duty  I  ever  performed,  to  instruct 
the  little  girl,  and  it  also  stimulated  me  in  my  own 
studies.  I  felt  exceedingly  proud  of  my  station,  as 
instructor,  especially  when  visited  by  the  doctor. 

"  At  the  age  of  twelve  years,  Judy  was  able  to  read 
to  my  mother,  in  a  manner  which  did  much  credit  to 
herself  and  her  instructor.  She  then  informed  me  of 
her  desire  to  learn  to  write.  This  knowledge  was 
imparted  stealthily,  with  the  assistance  of  Margaret, 
who  often  stood  peering  over  Judy's  shoulder,  declaring 
that  she  could  '  make  dem  marks  all  'er  own  self,  if 
she  'd  know'd  how,  jest  as  well 's  Judy.'  But  alas,  for 
poor  Margaret !  Her  fingers  were  too  stiff ;  besides, 
she  had  been  condemned  to  some  punishment  by  my 
father,  soon  after  he  bought  her,  and  the  sinews  in  her 
right  wrist  Were  shrunk.  By  devoting  one  hour  each 
day,  when  opportunity  offered,  in  the  absence  of  my 
mother,  Judy,  in  one  year,  became  able  to  write  well. 

"  At  the  age  of  seventeen,  I  commenced  my  studies 

at  K ,  with  the  intention  of  taking  a  full  course. 

My  father  desired  William  to  remain  with  him,  con- 
sidering him,  as  he  said,  '  the  most  business-like.' 

"  I  have  been  quite  particular  thus  far,"  said  Mr.  Le 
Rux,  "  as  I  considered  my  early  history  important.  1 
shall  now  be  more  brief." 

"  Notwithstanding  my  mother's  depreciating  words, 
I  was  always  first  in  my  class,  both  as  it  regarded  recit- 
ations and  deportment.  I  mixed,  as  others  did,  in 
society. 


ol6  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

u  Judy  had  taught  me  a  lesson  of  virtue  and  self- 
denial  ;  not  by  words,  but  by  the  purity  and  nobleness 
of  her  conduct,  which  seemed  to  be  an  innate  fountain, 
flowing  spontaneously  in  thought,  word,  and  deed.  My 
society  was  courted  by  the  ladies,  although  I  did  not 
strive  to  become  what  is  termed  '  a  ladies'  man.'  It 
was  at  this  time  I  learned  the  extent  of  my  affection 
for  Judy.  Nowhere  did  I  meet  her  equal  in  worth  ;  all 
suffered  by  a  comparison.  Her  many  virtues  stood  out 
in  bold  relief  before  me.  '  Do  I  love  her  only  as  a  sis- 
ter ? '  thought  I.  And  then  came  the  conviction,  that, 
without  her,  I  could  never  be  happy,  and,  with  that 
conviction,  a  full  sense  of  my  situation.  On  my  first 
visit  home,  I  found  that  a  change  had  come  over  her : 
she  appeared  melancholy.  I  returned  to  K with- 
out learning  the  cause,  but  with  an  increased  affection 
for  the  beautiful  girl. 

"  I  will  pass  over  the  event  that  transpired  while  I 
was  at  school. 

"  At  the  age  of  twenty,  I  returned  home,  under  the 
plea  of  poor  health,  and  unfitness  for  study.  Judy  was 
evidently  very  unhappy,  and  it  did  not  take  long  for 
me  to  discover  the  cause.  My  father  had  had  his 
designs  upon  her,  and,  failing  in  his  purpose,  had  sub- 
jected her  to  many  trials.  He  had  beaten  her  with  his 
own  hand,  and  threatened  to  have  her  whipped  by  the 
overseer,  but  had  desisted,  upon  the  earnest  entreaty  of 
my  mother,  on  condition  that  she  should  not  object  to 
Judy's  being  sold. 

"  I  learned  these  things  from  Margaret,  who  added  : 
'  Judy  ain't  no  nigger,  no  how ;  but  mas'r  '11  get  big 
money  for  'or,  'kase  she 's  so  'andsome.' 

"  Stung  to  the  heart,  I  went  immediately  to   my 


THE    SLAVEHOLDER'S    SOX.  317 

mother.  I  found  her  much  afflicted  at  the  necessity  of 
parting  with  Judy,  but  she  had  pledged  her  word. 
'  You  know,  as  well  as  I,'  said  she,  '  that  your  father 
will  not  be  diverted  from  his  purpose.     Judy  is  not  to 

be  worked,  but  to  be  kept  by  Esquire  D ,  who  has 

agreed  to  pay  your  father  two  thousand  dollars  for  her.' 

"  I  was  maddened  to  desperation.  I  went  imme- 
diately to  Dr.  Willis,  and  to  him  opened  my  whole 
heart.  He  questioned  me  closely  respecting  my  affec- 
tion for  Judy,  and  I  answered  honestly.  He  said  he 
had  no  doubt  that  the  girl  had  been  kidnapped,  and  he 
hoped  that  the  villany  would  some  time  be  brought  to 
light.  He  told  me  to  return  home,  go  to  Margaret,  and 
persuade  her  to  give  me  the  trinket  that  she  found  upon 
Judy,  at  the  time  she  was  brought  to  my  father's  house. 
If  I  could  not  get  it  otherwise,  I  must  bring  it  away 
by  stealth.  '  She  hides  it,'  said  the  doctor,  '  in  the  foot 
of  an  old  stocking,  which  she  fastens  by  a  string  to  her 
bedcord,  and  then  slips  it  through  a  hole  in  the  tick, 
among  the  straw.  Get  the  bracelet ;  tell  Judy  to  be  at 
my  house  by  twelve  o'clock,  this  night ;  and,  if  you  are 
willing  to  marry  her,  before  God  and  man,  either  bring 
her  here  yourself,  or  come  by  half-past  twelve.' 

"  I  went  to  Margaret  and  asked  her  for  the  bracelet. 
I  told  her  that  Judy  was  in  great  danger  of  being  sold  ; 
that  I  was  determined  to  take  her  away,  and  marry  her. 
Margaret  hesitated.  I  then  told  her  that  the  possession 
of  the  trinket  might  be  a  great  help  to  Judy,  in  finding 
her  mother.  The  poor  old  creature  burst  into  tears, 
and  brought  it  to  me,  saying,  '  Oh,  I  lub  Judy  bery  much, 
an'  I  wants  'er  to  find  'er  moder.'  She  then  spoke  of 
her  own  poor  lost  children,  and,  dropping  upon  a  bench, 
swayed  her  body  to  and  fro,  in  great  agony." 
27* 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  ELOPEMENT  AND  MARRIAGE  OF  EDWARD  LE  RUX. 

"  I  entered  my  mother's  room.  She  was  sleeping 
upon  the  sofa.  Judy  had  been  reading  to  her,  and 
motioned  me  to  silence.  Judy  was  attired  in  a  neat 
loose  dress,  fitting  simply  to  her  form,  which  my  mother 
had  ordered  her  to  wear  when  attending  her ;  and  I 
was  sure  that  I  never  saw  the  dear  girl  look  so  lovely. 

"  I  took  my  pencil  and  wrote :  '  Judy,  you  are  in  great 
danger  of  being  sold ;  we  must  take  our  flight  to-night.' 

"  She  read  it ;  and,  taking  my  pencil,  wrote  under- 
neath :  *  I  am  aware  of  it ;  I  will  go.' 

"  I  heard  my  father's  step  at  the  door,  and  had  barely 
time  to  slip  the  paper  in  my  pocket,  when  he  entered, 
cast  an  eye  upon  me,  then  said  to  Judy :  '  Come  below 
stairs  to  me  at  ten  o'clock.'     It  was  now  nine. 

"  My  father  had  no  sooner  gone,  than  I  wrote  on  the 
paper,  lNbw  is  our  time  ! ' 

"  Judy,  without  saying  a  word,  stepped  to  the  closet ; 
put  on  her  bonnet ;  cast  one  look  at  my  mother,  who 
was  still  sleeping ;  opened  the  door  softly,  and  we  de- 
scended the  back  stairs  quietly,  and  gained  the  street. 
Judy  was  much  agitated :  I  drew  her  arm  gently  within 
mine,  and,  with  all  possible  haste,  we  made  our  way  to 
the  city. 

"  We  rung  at  the  door  of  Dr.  "Willis.  He  soon  made 
his  appearance,  and  conducted  us  to  the  chamber.     '  It 

(318) 


ELOPEMENT   AND    MARRIAGE.  319 

is  desirable,'  said  the  doctor,  'that  we  all  should  feel  the 
responsibility  of  our  situations,  and  act  accordingly.  I 
am  aware  that  you  escaped  none  too  soon.  Had  you 
waited  till  twelve,  it  would  have  been  too  late.' 

"  To  Judy  he  said  :  '  Be  calm,  my  daughter.  I  will 
risk  my  life  before  any  harm  shall  befall  you.'  He  then 
interrogated  her,  in  regard  to  her  wishes  for  the  future. 
He  thought  I  had  best  make  her  what  propositions  I 
desired,  in  his  presence.  I  did  so.  And  Judy  was  per- 
fectly frank  in  deciding  that  she  would  become  my 
wife.     He  spoke  a  few  words  to  her,  and  she  withdrew. 

"  In  a  short  time  she  re-appeared,  arrayed  in  a  rich 
bridal  dress.  The  doctor,  as  well  as  myself,  was  sur- 
prised at  the  chaste  beauty  of  her  appearance,  and  the 
grace  of  her  movements.  He  smiled,  and  said,  '  I  think 
Judy  is  sufficiently  disguised.'  And  then  he  desired 
me  to  follow  him,  and  assume  a  new  dress. 

"  Upon  my  re-entering  the  room,  Judy  seemed  anxious 
to  leave  it ;  she  was  evidently  fearing  me  as  a  stranger. 
But  the  doctor,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  re-assured  her, 
by  playfully  introducing  us. 

"  We  were  conducted  to  the  parlor,  and,  in  a  few  min- 
utes, a  clergyman  entered.  Dr.  Willis  arose,  and  intro- 
duced me  as  Mr.  Edward  Le  Clare,  and  Judy  as  Miss 
Emily  Willis,  his  adopted  daughter.  After  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  was  performed,  the  clergyman  with- 
drew. 

"  Dr.  Willis  then  brought  forward  a  small  trunk,  and 
said :  '  This  trunk  fell  into  my  hands,  some  considerable 
time  since.  I  believe  it  must  have  been  the  properly  of 
some  wealthy  person,  who  had  been  on  board  a  vessel 
that  was  wrecked  in  a  storm  on  the  coast.  The  per- 
son to  whom  it  once  belonged  was  undoubtedly  lost, 


320  THE    CVRSfi   ENTAILED. 

as  no  inquiries  have  ever  been  made  for  it,  and 
nearly  all  on  board  the  vessel  perished.  It  contains  gold 
of  the  French  coinage,  and  I  have  never  spent  any 
of  it ;  but  have  ever  intended  to  bestow  it  on  some 
worthy  object.  When  I  first  saw  you,  Judy,  I  believed 
you  to  have  been  kidnapped,  and  felt  interested  for 
you ;  and  you  were  associated  in  my  mind  with  a 
child  I  had  lost,  but  one  year  younger  than  yourself. 
I  now  feel  that  you  are  the  one  on  whom  I  should 
bestow  this  gift ;  and  I  wish  you  to  receive  it  as  a 
daughter's  marriage  portion.' 

"  Then,  turning  to  me,  he  said,  '  Edward,  you  have 
now  left  your  family,  from  whom  you  can  expect  but 
little  sympathy.  Your  father  will  feel  that  you  have 
stolen  from  him  property  worth  two  thousand  dollars  ; 
besides,  you  have  obliged  him  to  lose  his  revenge  on 
Judy,  for  her  unyielding  obstinacy.  You  have  forced 
him,  against  his  will,  by  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 

to  break  his  contract  with  Esquire  D ,  which  you 

well  know,  among  honorable  slaveholders,  is  considered 
almost  an  unpardonable  sin.  Besides,  Edward,  you  and 
your  wife  will  now  have  to  secrete  yourselves,  as  best 
you  can,  from  the  almost  omniscient  eye  of  the  slave 
power ;  and,  as  soon  as  prudence  will  permit,  you  must 
flee  your  native  land.  You  must  now  realize  your 
difficulties  and  responsibilities,  that  you  may  be  able  to 
surmount  them.  Remember,  then,  that  your  lovely 
and  confiding  Emily  —  for  you  must  now  call  her 
Emily  —  the  wife  of  your  bosom,  the  idol  of  your 
heart,  is  still  a  slave — yea,  more,  a  fugitive  slave  — 
and,  according  to  the  laws  of  this  glorious  American 
Union,  she  owes  life-long  service.  Now,  Edward,  let 
me  assure  you,  that  you  very  much  mistake  the  nature 


ELOPEMENT   AND    MARRIAGE.  321 

of  our  peculiar  institution,  if  ever  you  permit  yourself 
for  one  moment  to  feel  safe,  while  you  remain  under 
the  laws  of  the  United  States  —  while  over  you  floats 
our  significant  banner  of  long  red  stripes.  On  your 
own  account,  Edward,  you  must  be  wary ;  for  you  are, 
by  American  laws,  a  felon,  a  fugitive  from  justice ;  and, 
if  the  demon  seizes  you  while  in  his  den,  you  may 
never  be  able  to  escape  his  fatal  grasp. 

"  '  Remember,  also,  never  to  let  the  gratitude  of  your 
heart  betray  you  into  the  indiscretion  of  mentioning 
my  part  in  this  affair ;  for,  although  I  have  acted  in 
obedience  to  my  Divine  Master,  yet  neither  my  gray 
hairs,  reputation,  nor  wealth  could  shield  me,  were  it 
known. 

" '  I  think  Emily  is  of  French  parentage,  as  well  as 
yourself.  Go,  therefore,  to  France ;  employ  for  her 
good  teachers ;  introduce  her  to  the  best  society  you 
can ;  and  let  her  always  wear  this  bracelet.  You  will 
find  there  is  much  dissipation  in  France,  but  shun  it  as 
you  would  the  pestilence.  The  money  Emily  has  now 
received,  should  you  safely  escape  with  it,  will  be 
ample  to  support  you,  till  you  have  studied  for  a  pro- 
fession, and  can  depend  on  yourself  for  an  income. 
Let  your  correspondence  with  me,  be  conducted  under 
the  name  of  Le  Clare,  for  the  present/ 

"  We  were  then  secreted  in  a  retired  upper  room, 
where  we  had  ample  time  to  reflect  upon  the  new  rela- 
tion we  sustained  to  each  other  and  our  country. 

"  When  we  left  New  Orleans,  we  did  not  go  imme- 
diately to  France,  but  remained  in  America  almost  a 
year ;  it  is  not  necessary,  however,  that  I  now  relate  to 
you  that  year's  trials. 

"  Before  sailing  for  France,  I  learned  that  poor  Mar- 


322  illK    CUR88    ENTAILED. 

garet  was  suspected  of  having  been  accessary  to  our 
elopement,  and  that  she  was  most  cruelly  punished, 
still  refusing  to  make  any  disclosure.  Dr.  Willis  was 
much  grieved  at  this,  and  Emily  shed  many  tears.  I 
also  learned  that  my  mother  suffered  great  anxiety  on 
my  account. 

"  My  brother  William,  although  ho  condemned  my 
course,  was  inclined  to  be  lenient  towards  me,  and  did 
all  that  he  could  to  soften  the  feelings  of  my  father, 
who  said  that  he  would  disinherit  me. 

"Dr.  Willis  visited  at  the  house  of  my  father,  and 
strove  to  console  my  mother.  He  was  not  suspected 
of  any  participation  in  the  elopement. 

"  Emily  was  confined  on  her  passage  to  France,  as 
we  were  much  longer  in  making  the  voyage  than  was 
anticipated,  owing  to  bad  weather ;  but  she  bore  all  her 
trials  with  a  heroism  rarely  equalled  by  any  one.  I 
named  our  first  child  Emily;  its  mother  added  the 
name  of  Edith,  saying,  she  had  a  partiality  for  that 
name,  as  it  seemed  familiar,  and  yet  she  knew  not  why. 
J "  I  followed  Dr.  Willis'  advice  to  the  letter,  after 
my  arrival  in  France.  Emily  had  the  best  teachers  in 
music,  drawing,  dancing,  &c,  and  in  a  few  months 
made  her  debut  in  society. 

"  Although  rather  retiring,  she  was  much  admired,  and 
my  love  increased  for  her  every  day,  as  her  mind  and 
powers  developed  themselves.  She  was  truly  all  I 
could  wish.  There  was  but  one  lady  in  Paris  who 
could,  in  my  opinion,  excel  her  in  appearance,  and  that 
was  owing  more  to  the  splendor  of  that  lady's  dress 
than  to  her  personal  charms.  This  feeling  led  me  into 
many  extravagances  in  the  purchase  of  jewels  and 
other  ornaments  for  my  wife.     I  was  bent  upon  Emily's 


ELOPEMENT  AND  MARRIAGE.  323 

excelling  Miss  Le  Roy,  who  was  the  only  child  of  one 
of  the  richest  men  in  Paris,  and  who  was  fond  of 
pleasure  to  an  extreme.  Her  father,  on  the  contrary, 
was  of  retiring  habits  and,  it  was  said,  had  suffered 
deep  affliction  in  early  life,  having  lost  his  bosom  com- 
panion, while  on  her  passage  to  America,  to  visit  a 
brother. 

"  Emily  often  expostulated  with  me  on  my  expendi- 
tures for  her;  but  I  had  ever  a  ready  answer.  I  do  not 
think,  however,  that  she  was  aware  how  far  I  drew 
upon  my  resources.  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Willis,  from  time 
to  time,  always  giving  him  an  account  of  my  happi- 
ness, and  the  manner  in  which  Emily  was  received  into 
society,  as  also  of  my  love  for  her,  and  for  little  Edith 
Emily.  And,  in  every  letter  I  received  from  him,  I  ex- 
pected to  hear  of  the  reconciliation  of  my  father. 

"  At  your  birth,  Edward,"  continued  Mr.  Le  Rux, 
"your  mother  suffered  much  from  protracted  illness, 
during  which  time  I  did  not  confine  myself  at  home. 

"  Meeting  Miss  Le  Roy  as  I  did,  unattended  by  any 
one,  I  paid  her  many  attentions ;  and,  as  she  was  the 
reigning  star,  I  took  a  pride  in  appearing  with  her 
leaning  upon  my  arm,  and  then  it  was  that  I  became 
what  is  termed  a  ladies'  man,  and  was  acknowledged 
as  a  most  polite  and  agreeable  gentleman. 

"  Emily  recovered,  but  she  refused  to  mix  much  in 
society ;  nor  did  I  urge  it,  for  she  had  lost  her  bloom, 
and  no  longer  rivalled  Miss  Le  Roy.  It  was  not  that 
I  loved  Emily  less,  but  I  had  entered  that  vortex  of 
dissipation,  of  which  I  had  been  warned  by  Dr.  Willis, 
and  thenceforward  I  devoted  myself  almost  exclusively 
to  pleasure.  I  had  hitherto  spent  some  time  in  pursu- 
ing the  study  of  law,  and  had  every  hope  of  success. 


324  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

I  was  always  fond  of  our  dear  child  Edith ;  but  now  I 
felt  my  love  for  her  increase  tenfold.  Let  him  explain 
who  can,  but  such  was  the  fact. 

"  I  pass  over  much,  which  will  only  serve  to  pain 
you,  until  I  found  myself  becoming  embarrassed  pecu- 
niarily. I  was  invited  to  the  gaming-table.  I  went, 
and  was  ruined ;  but  I  still  clung  to  the  doctor's  words 
respecting  my  father,  until  he  wrote  me  of  his  death. 
William  received  all  the  property,  as  father  had  threat- 
ened. '  William's  heart  is  soft  towards  you,'  wrote  the 
doctor,  '  and  I  trust  all  will  yet  be  well.  You  can  re- 
tire more  from  society.  Emily's  nature  is  such,  I 
feel  convinced,  that  she  will  prefer  to  devote  most  of 
her  time  to  those  little  ones.  You  doubtless  both 
remember  what  you  suffered  in  your  childhood  —  she, 
by  being  torn  from  the  arms  of  her  mother ;  and  you, 
by  being  given  over  to  the  care  of  those  necessarily 
unfit  to  train  the  youthful  mind.  Prosecute  your 
studies,  Edward,  with  energy  and  skill,  and  a  profession 
will  secure  your  independence.  Spend  the  next  two 
years  in  preparing  yourself  for  active  life.  You  have 
talent,  and  may  rise  high,  and  you  will  find  happiness 
increasing  upon  you.  I  have  now  one  thousand  dol- 
lars that  I  can  spare,  and  I  enclose  it  to  Emily.' 

"  Such  was  Dr.  Willis'  letter.  I  received  it  one 
evening,  as  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  theatre,  but  did 
not  peruse  it  until  after  returning  home.  At  that 
time,  I  saw  nothing  but  beggary  for  me  and  mine,  as  I 
had  scarcely  enough  to  defray  my  honorable  debts. 
I  shudder,  even  now,  as  I  take  a  retrospective  view  of 
my  feelings  at  that  time. 

"  There  is  now  hope,  thought  I,  as  I  entered  the 
house.     The  next  morning  I  informed  Emily  that  we 


ELOPEMENT   AND    MARRIAGE.  325 

must  sail  for  America  immediately.  My  resolution 
was  taken ;  I  would  return  to  my  native  country,  and 
reside  with  my  family  at  the  North.  I  had  occasional 
forebodings  of  evil  to  Emily  and  her  children.  At 
such  times,  my  heart  clung  to  Edith  as  it  were  with  a 
death-grasp,  and  I  resolved,  come  what  would,  that 
from  her  I  would  never  be  separated. 

"  We  sailed  for  a  northern  port  of  the  United  States ; 
and,  after  landing,  I  informed  Emily  of  my  circum- 
stances, and  my  resolution  to  remain  at  the  North.  I 
then  purchased  this  place. 

"  We  were  very  happy  in  our  retirement.  But  what 
could  I  do  to  obtain  a  subsistence  ?  I  finally  resolved 
to  go  to  New  Orleans,  and  throw  myself  upon  the 
generosity  of  my  brother  William;  acknowledge  all 
my  errors  to  Dr.  Willis ;  get  assistance  from  both  gen- 
tlemen ;  return  North ;  finish  my  professional  studies ; 
and,  for  the  support  of  Emily  and  my  little  ones,  labor 
and  be  happy.  Woe !  woe  is  me !  From  that  time,  I 
have  never  known  happiness ! 

"  On  reaching  New  Orleans,  I  found  that  Dr.  Willis 
had  left  the  city  soon  after  my  father's  death.  He  had 
relinquished  practice  as  a  physician,  and  resided  in 
Texas. 

"  My  brother  received  me  with  much  cordiality.  I 
found  him  prosperous,  in  full  possession  of  the  planta- 
tion, slaves,  and  all  the  other  property  of  my  deceased 
father.  Having  learned  all  the  circumstances  of  my 
case,  William  covered  me  with  ridicule.  He  called  my 
marriage  a  boyish  freak,  of  which  I  should  now  make 
no  account.  When  I  told  him  the  condition  of  my 
family,  and  the  affection  which  I  felt  for  them,  he  broke 
out  into  a  laugh,  and  said :  '  I  am  thankful,  if  that  is 


326  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

all.  Now,  what  you  want  is  a  fortune,  and  a  fortune 
you  must  have.  I  am  about  to  add  to  my  already 
large  estate,  by  marrying  a  daughter  of  one  of  the 
richest  planters  on  Red  River;  and  she  is  a  beauty 
into  the  bargain.  It  is  well  enough  for  you  to  provide 
for  your  family,  as  you  call  it,  Edward ;  but,  tell  me,  do 
you  not  know  some  rich  heiress  in  France  who  would 
be  proud  of  bestowing  her  hand  and  fortune  on  a  Le 
Rux  ?  Here  are  one  thousand  dollars,'  said  he ;  '  now 
go  back  and  fix  Judy  to  your  liking ;  and,  if  there  was 
ever  truth  in  your  brother  William,  he  will  see  that  she 
is  well  provided  for  in  future,  and  never  know  that  you 
are  in  the  land  of  the  living ;  and,  after  you  are  dead 

and  buried why,  folks  won't  mourn  always.' 

"  O  God!"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux,  "why  did  I  listen  to 
the  tempter  ?  But  so  I  did.  I  was  conscious  that  I 
had  won  the  affections  of  Annette  Le  Roy ;  and  what 
more  than  she  possessed  could  I  desire  in  regard  to 
fortune  ?  Where  could  a  lady  be  found  whom  I  would 
be  prouder  to  claim  ?  If  I  remained  with  Emily,  by 
what  means  was  I  to  support  her  and  her  children  ?  I 
had  taken  her  from  slavery,  and  thereby  rescued  her 
from  the  worst  of  fates ;  and  now,  if  she  were  comfor- 
tably provided  for,  what  reason  had  she  to  complain  ? 
The  law  —  why  that  would  not  even  permit  me  to  hold 
her  as  my  wife.  In  short,  such  were  my  wicked  rea- 
sonings, and  I  thought  I  was  even  making  a  virtue  of 
necessity.  But  my  lovely  little  Edith  ?  Well,  I  could 
take  her  with  me.  I  had  been  a  married  man  in 
France,  and  I  could  go  North,  and  get  Edith,  and  place 
her  with  William's  bride,  until  such  time  as  I  was  ready 
to  sail  for  France.  As  a  widower,  I  could  marry  Miss 
Annette  Le  Roy,  and  become  a  man  of  wealth. 


ELOPEMENT    AND    MARRIAGE.  327 

"  These  were  mostly  suggestions  of  William.  He 
would  do  as  he  had  said  in  regard  to  Emily  and  her 
boy,  and  he  would  also  see  that  the  boy  was  educated 
in  one  of  the  best  institutions  of  the  North.  Seeing 
me  irresolute,  he  at  last  hinted  that,  if  I  refused,  he 
had  power,  by  his  father's  will  and  the  slave  laws,  to 
seek  out  Emily  and  her  children,  and  reduce  them  to 
chattels.  Alas !  alas !  why  did  I  yield  ?  Why  embit- 
ter the  life  of  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved  ?  Why 
desert  my  only  son,  and  tear  from  a  fond  mother  her 
first-born,  on  whom  her  soul  doted?  Why  did  I 
draw  down  the  retribution  of  high  Heaven  upon  my 
guilty  soul  ?  I  will  tell  you.  I  was  mad.  It  was  the 
fruit  of  slavery.  It  was  the  curse  which  it  entails 
from  generation  to  genertion. 

"  Woe !  woe !  is  me  ;  I  am  forever  lost ! " 

Mr.  Le  Rux  was  exhausted,  and  ceased,  for  a  time, 
his  narrative. 

Edward  saw  that  his  father  had  summoned  all  his 
energies  to  proceed  thus  far.  He  now  feared  that  the 
invalid's  strength  might  utterly  fail.  But  he  was  con- 
vinced that  Dr.  Freeman  understood  the  case,  and  that 
it  was  best  to  let  the  penitent  man  take  his  own  course. 
Edward  was  also  fearful  that  his  father  was  not  long 
for  this  world ;  and,  as  yet,  he  had  heard  nothing  of 
Edith. 

"  Ah!"  thought  Edward,  UI  am  a  slave,  subject  to  the 
will  of  him  who  was  so  heartless  as  to  induce  my 
father  to  desert  me,  and  cast  dishonor  on  so  pure  a 
being  as  my  dear  mother.  Yes,  in  law,  I  am  a  slave, 
subject  to  his  will,  under  the  Fugitive  Bill;  and  it  was 
this  thought  which  broke  my  mother's  heart.  It  was 
this  knowledge  that  caused  her  to  fall  dead  upon  the 


328  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

floor,  when  she  read  that  the  accursed  bill  had  passed 
through  Congress.  She  hoped,  by  suffering  alone, 
to  save  me  from  the  pangs  which  I  now  feel ;  and  it 
was  this  which  made  her  so  fearful. 

"O  Ella!"  thought  Edward,  "I  have  loved— I  do 
now  love  you.  I  had  hoped  that  I  might  dare  to 
speak  —  to  tell  you  all.  But  how  can  I  repeat  such 
disclosures  ?  "  Ella  was  the  first  to  mark  the  increased 
melancholy  of  Edward's  countenance.  He  resolved 
that  she  should  know  all ;  and,  if  she  loved  Mm  —  as 
he  believed  she  did  —  it  would  stimulate  her  to  forget 
him. 

Then,  as  he  thought  of  his  sister  Edith,  he  groaned 
aloud.  "  Let  my  father  hasten  his  disclosures,"  thought 
Edward,  "  and  I  will  seek  her,  and,  if  need  be,  lay 
down  my  life  for  her  rescue.  We  can,  perhaps,  fly  to 
the  dominions  of  the  British  queen."  And  the  young 
man  rejoiced  that  his  mother  had  gone  from  earth  to 
heaven. 

While  reflecting  on  the  stricken  state  of  his  father, 
and  the  wretched  condition  of  himself  and  Edith, 
Edward  viewed,  with  increased  horror,  the  guilt  of  those 
doughfaces  at  the  North,  who  had  sold  themselves  to 
establish  such  villanous  laws. 

He  was  interrupted  in  his  reflections  by  the  entrance 
of  Dr.  Freeman  and  Mr.  Erskine.  The  land  physician 
conversed  with  Mr.  Le  Rux ;  questioned  him  in  regard 
to  his  health ;  and  the  two  gentleman  spent  an  hour  in 
the  room.  Edward  strove  to  appear  cheerful,  but  was 
utterly  unable  to  do  so.  When  the  gentlemen  took 
leave  of  Mr.  Le  Rux,  Edward  accompanied  them  be- 
low stairs.  Dr.  Freeman  expressed  his  fears  that  Mr. 
Le  Rux  was  not  so  well,  but  said,  "  I  am  still  of  the 


ELOPEMENT    AND    MARRIAGE.  329 

opinion  that  there  is  the  most  safety  in  letting  him 
take  his  own  course." 

"  But  where  is  Ella  ?  "  inquired  tho  doctor.  "  I  have 
some  news  to  tell  her."  She  soon  made  her  appear- 
ance, and  Dr.  Freeman  informed  her  that  he  had  that 
morning  been  called  to  attend  upon  Mrs.  Brownson, 
and  found  her  very  ill.  Her  illness,  he  believed,  was 
brought  on  by  a  letter  from  George,  announcing  his  in- 
tention of  going  to  Missouri,  and  asking  for  funds 
from  the  unsettled  estate,  in  order  that  he  might  prose- 
cute his  studies.  "  The  old  lady  has  evidently  many 
fears,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that  he  is  becoming  a  spend- 
thrift, as  he  took  sufficient  money  with  him  for  a  longer 
period ;  however,  it  is  now  out  of  her  power  to  satisfy 
his  present  demand.  She  requested  me  to  write,  and 
entreat  him  to  return  home.  Have  you  any  sugges- 
tions to  make  to  him,  Miss  Ella  ? " 
.  "  Certainly,"  replied  Ella ;  "  but  you  shall  not  hear 
them,  unless  you  will  .promise  to  give  them  in  full." 

"  I  promise." 

"  Tell  him,  then,  it  is  my  most  earnest  wish  that  he 
become  a  man  of  honor ;  that  he  return  to  his  aged 
mother,  and  serve  as  the  staff  and  support  of  her  de- 
clining years.  You  will  please  inform  him,  also,  that, 
finding  he  did  not  purchase  the  Le  Clare  estate,  my 
father  purchased  it,  and  has  kindly  given  it  to  me." 

"  As  a  marriage  portion,"  said  the  doctor,  mischiev- 
ously, fixing  his  eyes  upon  Edward.  But  those  eyes 
were  cast  down ;  and  all  seemed  conscious  that  sorrow 
was  in  the  heart  of  Edward. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning  that  Mr.  Le  Rux 
continued  his  narrative. 
28* 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

MR.    LE    RUX    CONTINUES    HIS    HISTORY. A    CRUEL 

DESERTION. 

"  I  returned  North,  and  after  paying  three  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  towards  the  house  and  lot,  and  giving 
Emily  one  hundred  dollars,  without  informing  her  in 
what  way  I  had  left  the  property,  I  departed  for  the 
South.  I  took  Edith  from  her  mother,  under  the  pretext 
that  I  should  be  lonely  during  my  stay  at  the  South. 
I  left  Emily  with  the  impression  that  I  would  return  in 
a  few  weeks.  But  I  tore  myself  from  her;  and,  in  so 
doing,  sealed  my  doom. 

"  On  reaching  New  Orleans,  I  was  fearful  of  meet- 
ing with  Dr.  Willis ;  but  he  had  not  returned  to  the 
city.  I  spent  most  of  my  time  with  my  mother,  to 
whom  William  had  communicated  my  designs  as  to 
the  future,  and  Edith  remained  there  with  me.  Wil- 
liam and  his  bride  were  then  living  in  the  city.  All 
now  spoke  to  Edith  of  the  death  of  her  dear  mother. 
I  often  found  her  weeping  about  her  loss ;  but  I  fore- 
bore  any  remarks,  although  it  cut  me  to  the  heart. 

"  Before  leaving  Emily,  I  took  from  the  box,  con- 
taining her  jewelry,  the  bracelet  which  had  been  found 
upon  her  when  a  child,  and  so  carefully  preserved  by 
Margaret.  I  did  it,  in  hopes  that  it  might  yet  lead  to  a 
discovery  of  Emily's  parentage,  and  thereby  benefit 
Edith. 

(030) 


A   CRUEL    DESERTION.  331 

"  We  sailed  for  France,  clad  in  the  habiliments  of 
mourning ;  and,  upon  our  arrival,  it  was  soon  known 
that  I  had  lost  my  wife  in  America. 

"  I  lived  somewhat  retired  for  a  few  months,  and,  in 
■ihe  mean  time,  made  several  calls  upon  M.  Le  Roy, 
accompanied  by  my  little  Edith,  or  Emily,  as  I  then 
chose  to  call  her.  I  was,  as  I  had  anticipated,  soon  in 
the  good  graces  of  M.  Le  Roy,  and  he  became  exceed- 
ingly attached  to  Emily.  In  less  than  one  year,  I 
threw  off  my  mourning,  and  became  the  husband  of 
Annette  Le  Roy.  M.  Le  Roy  gave  her  a  large  mar- 
riage portion,  and  we  commenced  the  giddy  round  of 
pleasure. 

"As  Emily  grew  older,  Mr.  Le  Roy  claimed  her 
society,  and  she  was  very  happy  with  him.  Annette 
was  good,  —  that  is,  she  was  kind  and  affectionate,  and 
loved^me ;  but  oh,  how  different  from  her  whom  I 
had  deserted ! 

"  Mr.  Le  Roy  often  spoke  to  me,  with  regret,  of  his 
daughter's  strong  desire  for  admiration,  and  love  of 
pleasure.  '  It  has  been  my  fault,'  said  he.  '  After  the 
death  of  my  wife,  I  entrusted  her  to  the  care  of  one 
who  fed  her  vanity  at  an  early  age.  But  1  hoped  that, 
in  bestowing  her  upon  you,  I  had  found  a  remedy.  I 
judged  more  from  what  I  saw  of  your  child,  than  from 
the  knowledge  I  had  of  your  character.  Your  child  is, 
perhaps,  more  indebted  to  her  mother  than  to  you  for 
her  retiring  and  thoughtful  habits.  She  is  a  treasure  to 
me,  and  I  hope  Annette  will  never  wield  injurious 
power  over  her,  to  her  injury.  As  your  expectations  of 
wealth  are  in  the  future,  you  will  do  well  to  remember 
that  large  estates  are  sometimes  soon  spent,  when 
unprofitably  used.' 


332  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  These  remarks  troubled  me  j  but  I  never  had  the 
least  power  to  control  Annette.  Long  before  her  death, 
I  ceased  to  enjoy  the  frivolities  of  fashion.  I  was,  as  it 
were,  a  dead  weight  upon  myself.  At  times,  I  wished, 
of  all  things,  to  escape  from  myself.  Annette,  on  the 
contrary,  though  not  so  much  flattered,  still  cherished  the 
same  vanity. 

"  Little  Emily,  as  she  grew  older,  saw  her  stepmother's 
weakness,  and  pitied  her. 

"At  this  time,  I  had  become  a  free-thinker,  and 
looked  upon  death  as  sleep,  or  rather,  oblivion  of  thought. 
I  felt  that  this  would  not  be  unwelcome;  for,  what 
could  be  pleasanter  than  to  cease  to  think  —  to  forget 
the  past  ? 

"  The  cholera  raged,  and  Annette  was  one  of  its  first 
victims.  Emily  was  with  M.  Le  Roy.  Annette  clung 
to  life,  but,  at  last,  expressed  a  willingness  to  (fie.  I 
remember  her  last  words  to  me :  '  Edward,  there  is  a 
God,  and  you  and  I  must  meet  him  in  eternity ! '  She 
had  loved  me  as  well  as  a  woman  of  her  temperament 
could  love.  Although  I  had  wished  to  die,  I  now  trem- 
bled at  death's  approach.  I  lived  through  the  epidemic, 
but  became  an  invalid. 

"  Mr.  Le  Roy  lived  retired  with  Emily ;  and,  unwil- 
ling to  spare  her,  he  invited  me  to  remain  with  him. 

"  While  an  invalid,  I  was  forced  to  examine  my 
affairs.  I  found  that  my  course  of  living,  which 
brought  in  no  income,  had  so  far  exceeded  my  means 
that  I  could  not  retrieve  myself.  I  also  learned  that 
Annette  had  contracted  debts,  and  then  had  drawn 
upon  her  father  to  pay  them,  without  my  knowledge. 
This  proved  that  she  feared  my  displeasure ;  and  yet 
her  extravagance  was  such  that  she  had  trusted  to  the 


A    CRUEL   DESERTION.  333 

indulgence  of  her  father  in  an  emergency.  He  had 
met  her  demands  repeatedly  ;  each  time  remonstrating 
with  her,  and  each  time  receiving  a  promise  that  she 
would  desist. 

" '  I  do  not  feel  disposed,'  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  after  her 
death,  '  to  censure  you,  Edward,  for  not  controlling  one 
whom  my  weakness  indulged.  Annette  was  capable 
of  manifesting  every  noble  quality  of  mind.  Often  did 
I  admire  her  in  her  childhood  for  what  I  deemed  prom- 
ising traits  of  character.  It  was  weakness  in  me,  not 
evil  in  i^er,  that  led  her  into  a  life  of  frivolity.  If  I 
have  been  wrong,  it  behoves  me  now  to  do  what  will, 
I  trust,  make  you  a  stronger  man,  and  nerve  you  to 
action.  You  must  arouse  yourself,  and  depend  on  your 
own  efforts.  There  is  not  a  being  upon  earth  I  love  as 
I  do  your  Emily.  For  her  I  am  willing  to  do  all  things 
necessary.  Were  it  not  that  I  feel  a  strong  impression 
that  the  love  of  truth  and  duty  towards  you  demands 
it,  I  would  be  forever  silent.  But  there  is  a  something 
which  urges  me  to  tell  you  more  of  my  history  than  I 
have  ever  done  ;  it  constantly  presses  upon  my  mind, 
and  I  must  obey.  I  married,'  continued  Mr.  Le  Roy, 
'  Annette  Edith  De  Wolfe.  I  need  not  tell  you  about 
her,  except  to  say,  that  never  did  daughter  more  resem- 
ble mother  than  your  Emily  resembles  her,  so  far  as  her 
manners  and  mind  are  concerned ;  and  there  are  times 
when  I  seem  to  see  a  resemblance  in  the  expression 
and  flash  of  her  eye.  The  similitude  often  comes  upon 
me  suddenly.  It  is  when  she  is  excited,  and  resolving 
upon  some  high  and  noble  purpose,  that  her  eye  has  this 
peculiar  light.  But  Emily  resembles  you  in  her  fea- 
tures. A  noble  family  were  the  De  Wolfes  in  France. 
They  were  noble  in  all  things  —  high-minded,  generous, 


334  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

and  intellectual.  Their  children  were  trained  in  the 
paths  of  piety  and  virtue.  But  death  came  and 
removed  the  parents.  There  were  three  children  — 
Albert,  the  eldest ;  Annette,  my  wife ;  and  Marsells,  the 
youngest. 

"'Albert  wedded  a  companion  worthy  of  himself. 
They  emigrated  to  North  America.  He  was  a  man 
whom  I  loved  for  his  many  virtues.  But,  alas !  it  was 
the  "peculiar  institution"  of  your  country — I  mean 
American  slavery,  a  phrase  which  I  blush  to  speak 
in  connection  with  republicanism  —  which  destroyed 
Albert  De  "Wolfe.  For  what,'  continued  Mr.  Le  Roy, 
'  can  make  a  man's  soul  so  unhallowed  as  to  rob  men, 
women,  and  children  of  their  right  to  themselves,  and 
then  feed  their  unhallowed  passions  upon  their  vic- 
tims ?  But  the  De  Wolfes  have  all  gone  to  judgment. 
In  America,  their  name  has  become  extinct.' 

"  Mr.  Le  Roy  was  much  affected,  and  every  word  he 
uttered  pierced  me  to  the  heart. 

" '  Well,'  continued  Mr.  Le  Roy,  '  I  married  Annette 
De  Wolfe,  and  we  were  happy.  In  one  year,  she 
became  the  mother  of  a  lovely  daughter,  and  we  named 
the  child  Edith  Annette.  Our  brother  Albert  was  loud 
in  his  praises  of  America,  and  urged  us  to  come  over 
and  make  our  home  in  the  new  land  of  liberty.  The 
settling  of  father's  estate  had  been  left  with  me,  and 
there  were  several  thousand  francs  more  due  Albert. 
He  urged  me  to  come  over,  with  my  wife  and  Marsells, 
and  bring  the  money.  Marsells  wished  to  go  and 
remain  with  Albert.  To  this  I  made  no  objection.  An 
intimate  friend  of  Mrs.  Le  Roy,  with  her  husband,  was 
to  sail  in  a  few  days  for  America,  and  we  finally  decided 
that    Mrs.  Le    Roy  and   Marsells  should  accompany 


A    CRUEL    DESERTION.  335 

them.  The  money  was  converted  into  gold,  and  depos- 
ited in  a  small  trunk. 

" '  The  ship  was  lost  on  the  American  coast.  She  had 
weathered  a  long  storm,  and  the  passengers  supposed 
themselves  to  be  entering  the  harbor  in  safety,  when 
the  cry  was  raised  that  the  ship  was  sinking !  There 
were  only  persons  enough  saved  to  tell  the  sad  tale. 

"  '  On  receiving  intelligence  of  the  loss  of  the  vessel, 
I  immediately  sailed  for  America,  hoping  to  learn  some- 
thing in  regard  to  my  relatives.  My  daughter  was 
then  a  little  more  than  three  years  old.  The  visit  to 
America  was  unsuccessful.  I  learned  nothing  about 
those  so  dear  to  me.  I  had  got  on  shipboard,  to  re- 
turn to  France ;  the  vessel  was  nearly  under  way,  when 
a  man  entered  my  room  hastily,  and,  placing  a  child  in 
my  arms,  left  before  I  could  even  ask  an  explanation. 
"It  is  my  child '."thought  I  —  "my  own  dear  child,"  as, 
with  eager  hands,  I  withdrew  the  handkerchief  which 
nearly  covered  its  face.  Alas!  it  was  not  my  child, 
but  a  beautiful  girl  about  one  year  younger  than  Edith. 
She  was  in  so  sound  a  sleep  that  I  could  not  easily 
arouse  her.     She  was  evidently  stupefied  by  an  opiate. 

" '  As  I  rushed  upon  the  deck,  with  the  sleeping  one 
in  my  arms.  I  said :  "  Where  is  the  man  who  gave 
me  this  child  ?  It  is  not  mine."  So  intently  absorbed 
was  I  by  the  occurrence,  that  I  did  not  perceive 
that  the  vessel  was  in  motion.  I  explained  the  matter 
to  the  captain,  but  he  soon  convinced  me  there 
would  be  no  prospect  of  finding  the  man  who  left  it, 
even  were  I  then  on  shore,  as  it  was  evidently  left  on 
purpose.  "  She  shall  be  mine,  then,"  said  I,  "  and  fill 
the  place  of  my  lost  one."     I  gazed  upon  the  sleeping 


336  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

innocent,  and,  while  the  tears  coursed  down  my  cheeks, 
I  determined  to  protect  and  adopt  her. 

" '  The  fellow  who  left  the  child  also  stole  my  pocket- 
book,  with  money  and  many  important  papers.  I  was 
then  satisfied  the  villain  acted  intentionally. 

"  '  When  the  child  awoke,  she  showed  signs  of  hunger. 
"  Poor  thing ! "  said  the  captain.  "  James,  bring  her 
some  food,"  he  said  to  the  steward. 

James,  as  he  went  to  execute  the  captain's  orders, 
peered  into  the  face  of  the  babe,  and  bestowed  a  com- 
pliment on  her  beauty.     Almost  every  one  appeared  to 
be  attracted  towards  the  young  creature.    An  Irishman, 
who  was  on  board,  could  not  restrain  his  feelings,  and 
said,  in  his  rough  way :  "  A  swate  darlin'  ye  are,  indade ; 
and  it  is  meself,  shurely,  who  would  like  to  take  ye    < 
home  to  me  own  swateheart.    For  it's  good  luck,  she'd 
then  be  having;  fa'th  she  would,  all  the  days  of  her  life ;   J 
and  it's  meself  that  would  n't  mind  the  trouble  of  ye,  I 
at  all  at  all.'     When  the  food  was  brought  we  were  all  | 
much  gratified  to  find  that  the  child  showed  a  good   j 
healthy  appetite.     But  who  was  to  nurse  and  attend   1 
this  little  one?   was  now  the  question.     But  it  was    ] 
done,  and  we  landed  safe  in  France. 

" '  I  named  her  Annette,  and  employed  a  nurse  for  her.  I 
And  I  never  before  told  any  one  that  she  was  not  my  1 
own  child.     I  fully  believe  that  she  never  even  sus- 
pected  that  fact. 

" '  I  still  have  a  hope,  that  I  may  yet  learn  more  con- 
cerning my  own  lost  ones.  For  there  was  something 
agreed  upon  between  myself  and  my  wife,  which  might 
serve  as  a  clew.  It  was  agreed  that,  in  case  of  any 
disaster,  my  wife  should  fasten  securely  to  our  child's 
clothes,  one   of   hex  own  bracelets,   while   she   should 


A    CRUEL    DESERTION.  337 

wear  the  other,  bearing  her  own  initials  engraved,  ''A. 
E.  D.  W."  This  plan  was  induced,  by  our  having  read 
that  the  parentage  of  a  child  was  once  discovered,  by 
the  same  means,  in  Scotland.  These  costly  bracelets 
were  put  into  the  trunk  containing  the  gold." 

" '  Thank  Heaven,  Emily  is  not  present ! '  I  said, 
mentally,  as  I  felt  the  blood  mount  to  my  face,  and 
then  recede  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  me  feel  that 
I  was  about  to  fall  from  my  chair. 

" '  Do  not  suffer  yourself  to  be  thus  affected,'  said 
Mr.  Le  Roy,  at  the  same  time  proffering  assistance. 

"  But  I  could  not  command  the  tumult  in  my  breast. 
'  I  am  indisposed.'  said  I,  withdrawing ;  '  but  I  will  re- 
join you  in  an  hour.' 

"  I  went  immediately  to  my  own  room.  The  first 
thing  was  to  consider  what  I  should  do.  I  now  knew 
that  my  deserted  Emily  was  the  real  daughter  of  Mr. 
Le  Roy,  for  the  initials,  A.  E.  D.  W.,  were  upon  the 
bracelet  preserved  by  Margaret.  Guilt,  shame,  and  dread 
forbade  my  disclosing  it  to  him.  No,  I  must  still  play 
the  part  of  a  villain,  I  could  not  for  worlds  let  him  un- 
derstand my  true  character.  I  could  not  think  of  ever 
again  looking  him  in  the  face.  I  was  horrified.  But 
the  bracelet,  fortunately,  had  not  come  under  his  in- 
spection, as  Emily  was  not  fond  of  ornaments ;  and 
now  I  resolved  that  I  would  secure  it  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  might  never  meet  his  eye.  The  more  I  reflected 
on  my  past  doings,  the  more  I  was  determined  Mr.  Le 
Roy  should  never  know  my  unfaithfulness.  I  must  go 
away  —  I  must  and  would  return  to  America.  '  Surely, 
thought  I,  '  Mr.  Le  Roy  has  himself  been  to  blame;  he 
has  deceived  me  ;'  and  in  this  thought,  weak  as  it  was, 
I  strove  to  find  some  palliation  for  my  own  guilt. 

29 


338  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  I  returned  to  Mr.  Le  Roy  in  an  hour's  time,  and 
he  continued  his  narrative.  '  It  was  this  hope,  still 
kept  alive  in  my  heart,  of  yet  finding  my  own 
daughter,  or,  at  least,  her  children,  that  made  me  re- 
solve to  withhold  from  Annette  one-half  of  my  estate 
for  my  own  descendants,  in  case  I  should  ever  find 
them.  Annette's  portion  you  have  already  received. 
Leave  Emily  with  me,  while  you  seek  some  active 
business.  Consider  my  house  always  open  to  you, 
like  your  own  father's ;  and,  if  I  never  realize  my  hopes 
in  regard  to  my  own  child,  Emily  shall  receive  the  re- 
mainder of  my  property.'  I  was  agitated,  and  he  con- 
tinued: 'I  will  welcome  you  here  in  sickness  as  in 
health.  You  may  consider  this  your  home,  and  me 
still  your  father ;  but  it  is  necessary,  for  your  own  hap- 
piness, that  you  become  an  active  man,  and  improve 
the  talents  which  God  has  given  you.  I  am  an  old 
man,  and  my  days  will  not  be  many.' 

"  I  could  endure  it  no  longer.  '  No,  indeed."  said  I, 
as,  with  an  unsteady  step,  I  started  for  the  door. 

"  This  Mr.  Le  Roy  attributed  to  ingratitude  and 
anger,  on  my  part,  at  his  remark  ;  and  he  added :  '  Be- 
ware, Edward!  I  may  have  done  wrong  in  not  making 
these  things  known  to  you  before ;  but  I  did  not,  in  the 
least,  suspect  that  money  induced  you  to  marry  Annette. 
Do  you  feel  that  I  have  done  you  an  injury  ?  ' 

"  I  was  smitten  to  the  very  heart,  for  he  was  himself 
much  affected.  I  felt  almost  ready  to  confess  all ;  but 
the  thought  of  my  guilt  deterred  me.  At  this  instant, 
Emily  entered  the  room.  Mr.  Le  Roy  recovered  his 
composure,  and  I  withdrew,  without  her  perceiving 
my  embarrassment. 

"  The  next  day,  I  informed  Mr.  Le  Roy,  of  my  inten- 


A   CRUEL   DESERTION.  339 

tion  of  sailing  for  America,  as  soon  as  I  could  ex- 
change letters  with  my  brother.  William  had  written 
to  me,  but  had  never  hinted  that  I  had  a  claim  to  any 
part  of  father's  estate.  I  now  wrote  to  him,  informing 
him  of  the  death  of  my  wife,  and  the  involved  state  of 
my  affairs,  and  that  I  desired  to  return  to  America, 
and  bring  Emily  with  me.  He  answered  me  in  the 
most  kindly  manner,  assuring  me  that  she  should  be 
protected  and  cherished,  as  though  she  were  his  own 
child ;  that  she  should  never  experience  the  least  incon- 
venience on  account  of  her  birth,  as  there  were 
none  now  living,  except  himself  and  me,  who  knew  the 
circumstances ;  and  that  it  was  known  I  had  married 
in  France.  '  I  will,'  he  wrote,  '  cause  your  wife's  death 
to  be  inserted  in  the  papers,  as  well  as  your  intention 
of  returning  to  America.'  I  was  troubled  at  this,  for 
I  was  fearful  that  it  would  reach  the  eye  of  Emily. 
But  I  had  entered  a  vortex  which  seemed  to  whirl  me 
irresistibly  along.  '  Oh ! '  thought  I,  '  there  is  no  end  to 
the  sin  which  flows  from  a  wrong  beginning.' 

"  My  next  step  was  to  prepare  Emily  for  the  change. 
I  talked  to  her  of  her  uncle,  William  Le  Rux,  in  Amer- 
ica ;  of  our  noble  institutions ;  and  even  boasted  of  our 
liberty,  although  I  felt  that  it  was  a  mockery.  Mr.  Le 
Roy  used  every  argument  to  induce  me  to  leave  Emily 
in  his  care,  but  to  no  purpose.  At  parting,  he  gave 
her  money,  and  her  wardrobe  was  also  well  supplied. 
Mr.  Le  Roy  was  much  affected  at  the  separation. 
'  Here,'  said  he,  affectionately,  '  you  can  ever  find  a 
friend — yes,  a  home ! '  Emily  was  also  deeply  grieved 
at  parting  with  him;  and  my  heart  smote  me,  as  I  took 
her  from  his  embrace.  Why,  O  why,"  said  Mr.  Le 
Rux,  "  does  my  mind  seem  to  linger  on  this  scene?     It 


340  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

is  painful  to  me.  I  tore  her  from  him  who  would  have 
protected  and  provided  for  her,  and  brought  her  where 
there  is  no  safety,  no  happiness,  in  store  for  her ;  and 
where  she  may,  perhaps,  yet  meet  a  fate  far  worse  than 
death. 

"  On  board  the  ship  in  which  we  sailed  were  a  man 
and  his  wife,  who  were  destitute  and  sick.  A  part  of 
the  funds  given  to  Emily  by  Mr.  Le  Roy  she  bestowed 
upon  them  —  how  much,  I  know  not;  I  only  know 
that  they  are  in  comfortable  circumstances  near  New 
Orleans.    He  is  a  mechanic,  with  a  lucrative  business." 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE  FATHER  AND  SON  IN  AGONY  OF  MIND. 

"Brother  William  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome ;  but 
oh !  what  a  change  had  come  over  him !  his  wife,  too  : 
her  soul,  her  mind,  were  dormant.  Oh!  how  slavery- 
murders  ;  and  yet  its  victims  know  it  not.  It  is  con- 
stantly debasing  in  its  influence  upon  the  mind.  Emily 
detested  the  foul  thing;  and  I  found  that,  to  Frank,  the 
only  child  of  William,  slavery  was  equally  revolting. 

"  Edward,  my  son,  I  have  learned  that  there  is  a 
God.  I  have  sought  for  mercy  from  him ;  but  it  is  not 
for  me.  I  soon  found  that  my  brother's  affairs  were 
embarrassed.  I  longed  to  come  North,  and  throw  my- 
self at  the  feet  of  my  beloved  and  wronged  Emily  — 
begging  to  be  forgiven,  and  telling  her  of  her  birth- 
right. But  shame,  guilt,  and  ill  health  held  me  back. 
I  sank  into  a  lethargy,  and  sought  solitude.  I  did  not 
even  desire  the  company  of  Emily,  from  whom,  I  had 
often  said,  I  would  never  be  separated;  and  I  even 
shunned  my  brother  William.  I  was  warned  to  hasten, 
by  the  spirit  of  the  departed  ;  still  I  did  not  heed ;  but 
the  passage  of  the  Fugitive  Bill  had  power  to  arouse 
me. 

"  I  visited  a  Jew  to  obtain  means  to  come  North ; 

and  there  I   learned,  for  the  first  time,  that  all  the 

money  which  William  had  forwarded  to  you  and  your 

mother,  during  my  residence  in  France,  had  been  ob- 

29*  (341) 


342  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

tained  from  Jew  David,  at  an  exorbitant  interest.  Think, 
then,  Edward,  of  the  dilemma  in  which  we  were  placed. 
"William  was  sick,  and,  during  that  time,  thirteen  of  his 
slaves  had  been  taken  off  by  the  cholera ;  William  was 
owing  six  thousand  dollars  to  the  Jew,  and  the  Jew  was 
in  possession  of  all  the  facts  relating  to  our  family. 
Think  what  awaits  us,"  said  he,  his  whole  frame  in  a 
convulsion  of  agony :  "  Death  and  eternal  damnation 
for  me ;  slavery  for  you  and  Edith  Emily !  " 

Mr.  Le  Rux  closed  his  eyes,  and  remained  silent 
for  several  minutes,  and  then  said :  "  Edward,  I  must 
be  left  to  my  fate,  whatever  it  may  be.  You  must  fly, 
seek  Emily,  and  sail  for  France.  I  have  written  to  Mr. 
Le  Roy,  and  he  now  knows  all.  He  will  receive  you 
with  open  arms.  I  shall  die.  I  am  not  worthy  the 
name  of  father." 

Overcome  with  his  agonizing  feelings,  Mr.  Le  Rux 
sank  back,  while  his  countenance  assumed  the  appear- 
ance of  one  in  despair.  Edward  made  an  effort  at 
calmness,  as  he  said,  "  Will  you  not  rest  upon  the 
sofa?"  at  the  same  time  taking  hold  of  his  father's  arm. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  did  not  move,  but  murmured,  "Lost! 
yes,  all  lost !  given  over  to  the  will  of  those  who  know 
no  mercy,  whose  souls  are  dark  as  hell.  Emily! 
Emily !  where  are  you,  my  child  ?  "  Here  he  put  his 
hands  to  his  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  some  horrible  vision. 

At  last,  he  uttered  the  words,  "  Yes,  eternity ;  an 
eternity,  O  God ! "  Edward  had  scarcely  power  to 
speak,  so  agonizing  were  his  feelings.  "  There  is  hope 
for  you,  father,"  said  he ;  "  hope  for  the  penitent, 
through  Him  who  died,  the  just  for  the  unjust;  there  is 
hope,  through  Him  who  died  that  you  might  live." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  raised  his  eyes,  and  said,  "  Could  you 


THE    FATHER    AND    SON.  343 

pray  for  me,  Edward  ?  "  Instantly,  Edward  was  upon 
his  knees.  "  God  in  mercy,"  were  the  first  words  he 
uttered.  "  Mother"  he  at  length  said,  " thou  art  an 
angel.  Does,  thy  pure  spirit  now  behold  thy  son? 
Father  in  heaven,  —  holy  and  eternal  God !  look  thou 
upon  us,  in  mercy.  Show  us  our  sins,  our  guilt ;  and 
pardon  us,  through  Jesus  Christ,  thy  Son." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  wept  aloud,  and  repeated,  "  Show 
me  my  guilt,  and  pardon  me  through  Jesus  Christ,  thy 
Son.  I  will,  I  will  seek  for  mercy  through  him. 
Leave  me  now,  Edward,  and  seek  rest  for  thy  weary 
soul ;  but  tell  me,  first,  can  you,  will  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  forgive  you,  father,  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart,"  replied  Edward. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  sanctuary  of  my  mother,"  thought 
Edward,  as  he  left  Ms  father,  for  he  had  not  entered  it 
since  his  return.  Here  Edward  gave  way  to  his  feel- 
ings, and  great  was  the  relief  to  him.  In  one  moment, 
all  his  mother's  sufferings  came  up  again  before  him. 
She  seemed  to  be  again  an  inhabitant  of  this  world. 
How  Christ-like  was  her  self-denying  spirit,  as  she  strove 
silently  to  hide  from  him  her  grief,  her  agony.  "And  it 
was  for  me ;  yes,  for  me,  my  mother  suffered.  It  was 
to  preserve  me  from  the  knowledge  of  what  would  have 
made  me  unhappy,  or  perhaps  driven  me  into  danger." 

"  Where,  oh !  where  shall  I  go  ?  "  thought  Edward. 
"  O  Edith !  I  remember  and  love  thee,  sweet  sister ;  and 
I  cherished  those  remembrances  when  I  dared  not 
speak  thy  name.  How  oft,  at  the  sound  of  thy  name, 
have  I  seen  life's  current  fly  from  my  mother's  face. 
And  thou  art  a  slave,  and  yet  know  it  not!  Thou  art 
within  slavery's  stronghold.  Canst  thou  not  fly,  Edith  ? 
Oh !  fly  to  me ;  come  to  thy  brother !     He  will  protect 


344  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

thee,  and  save  thee  from  a  fate  worse  than  death! 
What  am  I  saying  ?  Am  I  not  a  fugitive  also  ?  Then 
fepw  can  I  protect  thee  ? " 

A  paleness  overspread  his  countenance,  as  he  sank 
into  a  chair.  "  Ye  men  of  the  North,  how  could  you 
frame  such  monstrous  iniquity  ?  You  have  caused  a 
nation  to  blush,  and  filled  its  bosom  with  shame.  No, 
Edith,  you  cannot  come  North.  There  is  no  hope  for 
you  here.  We  are  stricken,  sister ;  stricken !  and  our 
country  offers  us  up  living  sacrifices  to  the  Moloch  of 
slavery.  Then  let  us  die,  sister  Edith.  We  have  a 
place  in  heaven,  and  our  mother  is  an  angel;  then  let 
us  join  her." 

His  feelings  became  too  deep  for  utterance,  and  he 
was  silent  in  his  agony.  He  at  length  said :  "  My 
mother  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  proudest  families 
of  France ;  heir  to  a  splendid  fortune ;  endowed  with 
exalting  virtue,  and  admired  for  her  personal  charms ; 
yet  the  accursed  laws  and  public  sentiment  of  this 
boasted  land  of  liberty  enabled  the  man-stealer  to  seize 
and  retain  from  her  her  birthright.  But  will  any  one 
dare  to  claim  us  as  property,  Edith  ?  Do  they  not  all 
know  that  the  claims  of  men  to  the  ownership  of  their 
fellow  men  are  but  thief's  claims  ?  Who  is  so  ignorant 
as  not  to  know,  that,  if  one  man  can  rightfully  and 
justly  own  property  in  his  fellow  man,  then  all  men,  of 
every  nation  on  earth, can? — in  which  case,  the  whole 
world  would  become  a  human  market,  and  all  men 
enslavers  or  slaves,  according  to  the  fluctuating  power 
of  brute  force  ? 

"  To  those  who  deal  in  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men ; 
to  those  who,  by  then*  votes  and  acts,  bind  the  galling 
yoke,  with  adamantine  strength,  round  the  poor  slave  ; 


THE    FATHER    AND    SOX.  345 

it  is  to  ye  I  would  raise  my  feeble  voice.  If  ye  wish 
that  future  generations  should  refer  to  you  with  honor 
and  with  pride;  if  ye  wish  that  America  should  be 
what  God  intended  it  to  be  — the  '  land  of  the  free  and 
the  home  of  the  brave'  —  do  not  longer  submit  to  be 
controlled  by  a  despotism  so  loathsome  and  unholy ! 
Let  me  warn  you  that  you  are  standing  upon  an  abyss 
which  will  soon  engulph  you ;  bringing  ruin  upon  your- 
selves and  those  who  come  after  you." 

Edward  then  raised  his  eyes  reverently  to  God, 
as  he  solemnly  repeated :  "  Vengeance  is  mine ;  I  will 
repay,  saith  the  Lord."  What  a  soothing  effect  has 
religion  upon  those  who  truly  believe  in  its  holy  tenets. 
It  acts  on  the  mind  like  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters ; 
it  lifts  man  from  earth  to  heaven,  giving  him  evidence 
of  those  precious  promises  which  the  Redeemer,  by  his 
blood,  purchased  for  all.  Armed  with  such  a  weapon, 
men  can  now,  as  they  have  done  heretofore,  truly  defy 
the  unholy  artifices  of  Satan. 

Having  sufficiently  calmed  his  agitated  spirit,  Edward 
opened  the  drawer  containing  his  mother's  papers. 
There  was  a  package  that  he  had  not  examined  when 
last  here,  and  which  he  had  resolved,  in  his  own  mind, 
not  to  open  until  his  return  in  the  fall.  Edward  now 
proceeded  to  an  examination.  There  were  two  sealed 
letters  —  one  to  Edith,  and  the  other  directed  to 
"  Edward  Le  Eux,  Senior." 

"  I  now  understand  it,"  said  he,  "  my  mother  was 
well  aware  that  Edith  and  my  father  both  lived.  She 
doubtless  wrote  these,  hoping  that,  after  her  death, 
they  might  meet  the  eye  of  those  two  lost  ones.  She 
had  a  firm  reliance  upon  God,  and  felt  that  he  would 
do  right,  according  to  his  most  holy  will.     How  strik- 


340  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

ingly  do  I  now  discern  his  great  wisdom  and  goodness. 
The  thought  must  have  entered  her  mind  that  my 
father  might  perhaps  visit  this  place.  It  may  be  that 
it  was  for  this  she  prayed." 

Taking  the  letter,  he  returned  to  his  father.  He 
found  him  still  laboring  under  an  apparent  restlessness 
and  exhaustion  of  body,  though  his  mind  was  calm 
and  collected. 

"  I  have  visited  my  mother's  room,"  said  Edward, 
"  and  have  been  looking  over  her  papers."  He  handed 
his  father  the  letter,  saying,  "  This  letter  of  my  mother's 
seems  directed  to  you." 

"  It  is,  it  is  indeed  her  writing,"  said  his  father,  as  he 
looked  at  the  superscription.  "  I  know  it  too  well,  for 
it  was  me  who  taught  her  in  my  boyhood,  and  great 
was  the  pleasure  to  my  heart.  O  Judy!  how  vividly 
does  your  form  rise  up  before  me  now !  O  thou  spot- 
less, pure,  and  lovely  one !  how  willingly  would  I  have 
then  sacrificed  my  life  for  thee !  I  see,  as  if  't  were 
yesterday,  the  sparkling  eye,  and  the  laughing  joy  that 
beamed  upon  thy  face,  when  thou  hadst  surpassed  thy 
teacher ;  and  also,  the  apparent  glee  with  which  thou 
didst  call  Margaret  to  witness  and  rejoice  with  thee. 
Little  did  I  then  think,  that,,  in  thy  broken  heartedness, 
when  deserted  by  me,  after  having  become  the  mother 
of  my  dear  children,  it  would  serve  the  purpose  of  re- 
uniting our  spirits." 

He  wept  like  a  child.  It  was  some  time  before  Mr. 
Le  Rux  could  command  himself  sufficiently  to  open 
the  letter,  gazing  at  the  superscription  in  an  abstracted 
manner.  At  length  he  said :  "  Edward,  I  seem  to  see, 
as  through  a  mirror,  every  phase  in  the  history  of  my 
past  life ;  and  here,  lest  I  have  no  other  opportunity,  let 


THE    FATHER    AND    SON.  347 

me  say  something  farther  concerning  the  circumstances 
connected  with  the  course  I  have  pursued ;  and  give 
you  the  views  I  entertain  regarding  the  condition  of 
this  wicked  nation.  Imagination,  that  great  boon 
which  has  been  bestowed  indiscriminately  on  all,  brings 
me  back,  not  unwillingly,  to  the  days  of  my  boyhood, 
and  along  through  that  happy,  transitory  period,  to  the 
more  mature  one  of  manhood.  I  behold  Judy  in  all 
the  innocence  of  childhood,  suffering,  even  then,  when 
all  should  be  light  and  joy,  from  the  vile  curse  of  slavery. 
I  seem  to  see  her  on  that  night,  when  she  escaped  from 
slavery,  and  found  a  father  in  Dr.  Willis  and  a  husband 
and  protector  in  these  arms. 

"  I  had  a  heart  then,  like  you,  Edward,  except  that  it 
was  unrenewed  by  divine  grace.  I  sincerely  loved 
Judy,  because  she  was  beautiful  and  affectionate.  I 
saw  the  cursed  institution  of  slavery  robbing  her  even 
of  the  right  to  herself.  My  impulses  to  rescue  her 
were  holy,  as  are  those  of  every  man  who  would  rescue 
a  slave.  I  felt  that  it  was  wrong  to  deal  with  her  as 
my  father  was  doing.  I  saved  her  from  being  delivered 
over  to  one,  vile  enough  to  prostitute  her,  soul  and 
body,  to  his  unbridled  lusts.  My  father,  who  had 
robbed  her  of  herself,  and  was  angry  because  he  had  lost 
the  price  of  her  charms,  disinherited  me.  The  instruc- 
tions I  had  received  from  my  parents  rendered  me 
unfit  to  go  out  into  the  world  of  temptations.  My 
father  had  designed  that  I  should  be,  as  he  was,  a  dealer 
in  men  and  women.  Do  you  then  wonder  at  my 
course  ?  I  listened  not,  as  I  should  have  done,  to  the 
warning  of  Dr.  Willis  against  dissipation. 

"  My  second  sin  was,  that  I  listened  to  the  evil  sug- 
gestions of  my  brother  William,  and  deserted  my  own 


348  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

wife  and  child.  I  now  see  that  I  did  it  because  slavery 
permits  such  things,  and  calls  them  right  and  justifiable. 
How  many  proud  men  have  I  seen  at  the  South,  who 
would  challenge  to  deadly  combat  the  doubter  of  their 
honor,  though,  nevertheless,  they  unblushingly  divide 
their  affections  between  a  heart-broken  wife  and  dis- 
honored slaves.     American  slavery  has  poisoned  us  all. 

"  Edward,  I  feel  that  I  sinned  against  light,  even  the 
light  of  nature,  and  against  my  own  conscience,  and 
that  now  I  shall  never  be  forgiven.  Had  I  sought 
Emily,  while  living,  and  obtained  her  forgiveness,  I 
might  then,  perhaps,  have  hoped  for  mercy  from  God. 

"  God  will  yet  have  a  reckoning  with  this  guilty 
nation,  and  right  the  wrongs  of  its  millions  of  down- 
trodden victims.  By  the  passage  of  the  Fugitive  Bill 
to  a  law,  this  nation  has  sealed  her  doom.  She  has  ad- 
ministered to  her  own  vitals  the  fatal  poison  of  des- 
potism, which  now  rages  through  all  her  system ;  and 
the  day  is  not  distant  when  American  republican 
liberty  will  sleep  in  the  grave  of  oblivion,  or  this  nation 
be  dissolved  to  its  original  individual  elements.  Her 
physicians  have  placed  her  beyond  the  last  ray  of  hope ; 
there  is  now  no  remedy  able  to  purify  her  blood  from 
the  virus  of  this  cancer —  American  slavery.  O  Edward, 
I  am  surprised  that  the  political  quacks  of  America 
should  have  ever  thought  of  establishing  an  indissoluble 
union  between  the  noble  blood  of  the  virgin,  liberty, 
and  the  virus  of  the  rotten  cancer,  slavery.  But  more 
astonished  am  I,  that  now,  when  her  breasts  are  eaten 
off,  and  her  vitals,  at  Washington,  are  festering  in  cor- 
ruption, that  they  should  rejoice  in  the  progress  of 
her  disease,  and  expect  her  to  become  immortal  under 
its  influence. 


THE    FATHER    AND    SON.  349 

"  O  Edward!  I  abjure  thee,  hate  American  slavery  ; 
fight  it  to  your  last  breath ;  let  not  her  murderous,  over- 
whelming power  strike  you  with  fear;  give  her  no 
quarter ;  die,  if  you  must,  like  a  freeman,  but  never  sub- 
mit to  the  lash  as  a  slave!  Slavery  has  destroyed 
your  father  and  mother ;  and,  when  I  am  gone,  she 
will  struggle  to  hold  you  and  my  noble  Emily  in  her 
loathsome  embrace.  But  there  comes  a  soothing  whis- 
per to  my  soul,  saying,  that,  as  you  have  not  partaken 
in  her  sins,  God  will  deliver  you  from  her  plagues. 

"  I  feel  now  as  though  I  should  be  enabled,  even  in 
my  dying  agonies,  triumphantly  to  revile  and s  scoff 
at  this  nation's  murderous  power,  that  has  crushed  me 
and  mine,  with  millions  of  other  victims." 

He  was  exhausted,  and  lay  back  in  silence.  Edward 
knew  not  what  to  reply.  After  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Le 
Rux  said :  "  I  have  written  to  your  grandfather,  Mr. 
Le  Roy,  and  confessed  to  him  everything  in  relation  to 
his  lost  child;  of  my  own  heartlessness  in  deserting 
her ;  and  that  one  of  the  bracelets  is  in  the  possession 
of  Edith  Emily.  But  would  this  be  considered  proof 
by  the  slave  power  ?  Perhaps  they  will  try  to  force 
Mr.  Le  Roy  to  purchase  and  emancipate  you  and 
Edith  ;  this  may  be  your  only  hope." 

He  then  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter  which  Edward 
had  handed  him;  but,  before  he  had  proceeded  far, 
he  lifted  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  said,  "  O  God,  I  thank 
thee ! "  He  then  handed  the  letter  to  Edward,  who 
read  it  aloud,  as  follows  : 

"  Dear  Edward  Le  Rux,  —  If  ever  this  meets  your 

eye,  read  here  that  I  forgive  you.     I  have  had  a  dream, 

Edward.     I  dreamed  that  I  was  in  France,  where  I 

once  lived  so  happily.     Sitting  beside  an  aged  man,  I 

30 


350  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

saw  a  beautiful  girl.  As  I  looked  at  her,  she  reached 
out  her  hand  to  me,  and  said,  '  I  am  your  Edith.'  As 
I  was  about  to  speak  to  her,  you  entered,  with  a  lady 
leaning  upon  your  arm.  It  was  Miss  Le  Roy,  the  star 
of  whom  you  so  often  spoke,  while  we  were  in  France. 
She  was  resplendent  with  jewels,  and  looked  happy; 
but  you,  Edward,  looked  quite  the  contrary ;  you  did 
not  seem  to  recognize  me.  I  heard  my  name  pro- 
nounced by  some  one  who  seemed  far  above  me.  I 
turned  to  look,  when  instantly  the  place  seemed  familiar 
to  me,  as  did  also  the  countenance  of  the  aged  man. 
'  It  is  my  father,'  thought  I ;  and  he  said,  '  You  are  not 
a  slave.'     I  was  about  to  speak  to  him,  when  I  awoke. 

"  Everything  is  so  impressed  upon  my  mind,  that  it 
now  seems  as  a  reality.  Edward,  I  am  now  fully  con- 
vinced that  I  was  not  born  a  slave.  That  vision  was 
the  home  of  my  infancy ;  and,  were  I  now  in  France,  I 
could  trace  the  spot,  for  I  saw  it  while  I  was  with  you 
there. 

"  I  have  forgiven  you ;  but,  as  you  hope  for  eternal 
salvation,  you  must  save  my  children.  Seek  out  Dr. 
Willis,  for  my  mind  is  drawn  towards  him.  Farewell. 
"  Yours,  till  death,  Emily  Le  Clare." 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE    FATHER    OVERCOME. 

Struggling  to  command  his  feelings,  Mr.  Le  Rux 
said :  "  Edward,  will  you  not  go  with  me  ?  Dr.  Willis 
is  now  in  New  Orleans.     We  will  seek  him  now." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Edward,  "  I  will  go  ;  point  me  the 
way.  But  you  are  not  able  to  go,"  and  he  put  his  hand 
upon  his  father's  brow,  and  found  he  had  a  high  fever. 

The  young  man  bathed  his  father's  throbbing  brow 
and  temples,  while  he  saw  the  deep  heaving  of  his 
chest.  "  I  have  been  blind  —  I  should  have  waited," 
thought  he. 

That  night  saw  Dr.  Freeman  in  close  attendance 
upon  Mr.  Le  Rux ;  while,  in  broken  sentences,  the  lat- 
ter talked  of  the  South  —  of  Edith  —  of  the  Fugitive 
Bill  —  of  France —  of  his  dear  Emily  —  Annette  —  Dr. 
Willis,  and  his  brother  William,  all  in  turn.  Sometimes, 
he  bade  Edward  hasten ;  at  other  times,  told  him  to  stay. 

"  I  shall  sink  under  this,"  thought  Edward,  as  he 
threw  himself  upon  the  sofa. 

"  I  have  attended  too  many  patients  like  your  father," 
said  Dr.  Freeman,  "  to  be  affected  by  his  manner.  But 
it  will  unnerve  you.  I  attended  your  mother,  in  sick- 
ness, when  she  also  said  many  things,  which  afterwards 
led  to  an  explanation  on  her  part.  Her  disclosure  has 
remained  here,"  said  the  doctor,  putting  his  hand  upon 
his  breast.     "  Would  not  her  heart  have  sooner  broken, 

(351) 

V 


352  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

think  you,  Edward,  without  one  friend  ?  Fear  not,  but 
trust  me,  as  she  did ;  and,  even  in  this  trying  hour,  it 
will  make  your  burden  lighter.  No  one  must  be  admit- 
ted to  the  room,  while  he  remains  as  he  is,  but  you  and 
myself.  I  cannot  leave  him  now,  but  I  trust  you  will 
do  so.  Seek  the  open  air,  and  remain  long  enough  to 
return  invigorated." 

Edward  silently  complied  with  the  request  of  the 
doctor.  "  He  understands,  and  he  will  best  counsel 
me,"  thought  the  young  man.  And  he  felt  already  as 
if  the  burden  were  partially  lifted  from  his  heart. 

At  this  moment,  he  heard  Ella  speaking  to  Mrs. 
Wise,  in  her  usual  kind,  cheerful  voice.  "  I  long  to  tell 
her  all,"  thought  he ;  "  but  it  will  only  pain  her  sooner 
than  need  be.  She  can  never  be  mine, '  unless  God  in 
his  mercy  interfere.' " 

Edward  was  about  entering  the  house,  when  he  saw 
a  man  move  cautiously  from  the  shadow  of  a  tree,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road.  He  seemed  to  be  going 
in  the  direction  of  a  field  back  of  the  house,  as  he 
crossed  the  road.  "  It  is  strange,"  thought  Edward. 
"  I  think  he  must  have  been  a  fugitive,"  said  he,  after 
relating  the  circumstance  to  Dr.  Freeman. 

"  It  is  doubtless  the  man  I  met  as  I  was  coming  to 
the  house,"  replied  Dr.  Freeman.  "  He  was  no  fugitive ; 
but  he  excited  my  suspicion,  for  he  inquired  after  your 
father's  health  —  that  is,  he  inquired  how  the  sick  man 
was  at  this  house,  and  whether  he  was  likely  to  recover. 
I  did  not  recognize  him  as  a  resident  in  the  town." 

Towards  morning,  Mr.  Le  Rux  became  more  rational ; 
his  fever  abated,  but  he  was  very  much  prostrated. 
The  next  night  found  him  again  delirious,  and  more 
inclined  to  talk  than  usual. 


THE   FATHER   AND    SON.  353 

Edward  had  again  sought  the  open  air,  and  seated 
himself  upon  a  bench  on  the  piazza.  He  had  become 
lost  in  thought,  from  which  he  was  aroused  by  hearing 
his  name  pronounced.  Turning  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  he  saw  a  man  leaving  the  spot.  "  I  will  know 
who  you  are,  and  what  has  brought  you  here,"  thought 
Edward,  as  he  followed  the  mysterious  visitor.  But 
the  man  quickened  his  pace ;  and,  upon  reaching  the 
spot  where  he  had  first  seen  him,  Edward  saw  a  letter 
lying  upon  the  ground.  Returning  to  the  house,  and 
procuring  a  light,  "he  found  the  letter  to  be  sealed,  and 
directed  to  Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux,  Junior.  "  Strange, 
indeed ! "  thought  Edward,  "that  I  am  known  here,  and 
am  already  addressed  by  the  name  of  Le  Rux."  But 
he  opened  the  letter,  and  now  came  the  mystery.  It 
was  without  date,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  If  Edward  Le  Rux  would  save  his  sister  from  being 
a  slave,  subject  to  the  claims  of  the  creditors  of  Mr. 
"William  Le  Rux,  now  deceased  —  who  inherited,  by 
will,  all  the  property  of  his  father,  and  was  thus  the 
owner  of  your  mother,  she  never  having  been  manu- 
mitted, and  her  children  therefore  belonging  to  the  estate 
of  the  said  William  Le  Rux,  deceased,  which  is  found 
to  be  insolvent  —  you  can  have  the  information  supplied 
you  for  such  a  purpose,  by  meeting  the  writer  of  this, 
in  New  Orleans,  at  any  time  within  one  month  after 
the  day  of  receiving  this  letter ;  and,  by  paying  the 
sum  of  six  thousand  dollars.      I  am  to  be  found  at 

street,  New  Orleans.      Come  in  disguise,  as 

any  discovery  of  your  being  in  the  city,  or  even  in  a 
slave  State,  would  cause  your  ruin.  But  trust  one,  who 
only  wishes  a  remuneration  for  that  which  is  his  just 
due,  with  an  earnest  desire  to  secure  your  welfare,  and 

30* 


354  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

place  your  sister  and  yourself  beyond  the  power  of 
those  who  are  watching  for  their  prey.        Horatio." 
Relieved  from  his  first  thought,  that  the  facts  related 

by  his  father  were  known  in  C ,  Edward  was  left  to 

ponder  and  decide  upon  a  mystery,  concerning  which  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  gain  one  gleam  of  light. 
At  one  minute  he  viewed  the  thing  in  one  way,  and 
the  next  minute  in  another.  But  he  was  convinced  of 
one  thing,  that  Edith  was  in  imminent  danger ;  and 
yet  his  father  had  not  hinted  the  fact  to  him. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

DEATH    OF    MR.    WILLIAM    LE    RUX. 

We  find  Mr.  William  Le  Rux  so  far  recovered  as  to 
be  able  to  sit  up ;  but  his  family  had  become  con- 
vinced that  his  intellect  was  suffering,  and  they  most 
earnestly  desired  the  return  of  Dr.  Willis,  as  the  sick 
man  refused  to  see  any  other  medical  attendant. 

Frank  often  thought  of  the  words  of  Dr.  Willis.  He 
had  been,  as  directed,  "  a  vigilance-committee ; "  but,  as 
nothing  had  occurred  to  create  alarm,  he  sometimes 
thought  the  doctor  was  laboring  under  a  species  of  in- 
sanity, and  he  now  relaxed  his  vigilance. 

Emily  had  heard  nothing  from  her  father,  and  she 
could  not  cast  off  an  anxious  foreboding  which  had 
taken  possession  of  her  mind.  But  Frank  did  not 
often  speak  of  his  uncle,  and  she  resolved  not  to  bur- 
den him  with  her  fears. 

"  I  really  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  one  morning, 
"  that  Mr.  Le  Rux  would  get  well.  The  niggers  are 
getting  to  be  good-for-nothing.  I  believe  Joe  was  the 
best  fellow  we  had,  —  he  was  always  very  faithful.  It 
never  mattered,  after  we  got  him,  if  Mr.  Le  Rux  was 
sick,  —  Joe  could  manage  just  as  well.  I  had  a  girl, 
once,"  continued  Mrs  Le  Rux, —  "it  was  before  you 
went  North,  Frank,  —  who  was  just  as  good  in  the 
house  as  Joe  was  out  of  doors.  She  wasn't  very 
black,"  said  she,  addressing  Emily ;  "  her  mother  was 

(355) 


356  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

a  mulatto,  and  I  suppose  her  father  was  a  white  man. 
But  no  matter  —  they  are  the  best  slaves ;  at  least,  they 
fetch  the  highest  price." 

Frank  shuddered ;  for,  as  he  had  before  said  to  Em- 
ily, he  remembered  certain  things  which  occurred  in 
his  childhood ;  and  he  said,  "  Oh,  my  father !  " 

"  O,  Frank,  things  won't  always  look  to  you  as  they 
do  now,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux.  "  I  was  n't  very  much 
pleased  myself,  at  the  time,  though  my  father  always 
acted  in  the  same  way.  Well,  Mr.  Le  Rux  took  quite 
a  liking  to  the  girl,  and  often  said  he  would  not  sell 
her." 

"  But  what  did  become  of  her  ?  "  asked  Frank.  "  I 
have  often  thought  of  that  girl,  but  have  feared  to  ask. 
I  thought  a  great  deal  of  her  myself;  we  always 
played  together,  you  know,  mother ;  and  she  was  like 
a  sister  to  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  "  I  could  not  help  liking 
her,  either ;  for  she  was  as  watchful  and  kind  towards 
me  as  though  she  had  been  my  own  daughter.  She 
used  to  wait  upon  me  and  Mr.  Le  Rux  in  the  most 
tender  and  devoted  manner.  But  a  gentleman  offered 
two  thousand  dollars  for  her,  provided  Mr.  Le  Rux 
would  warrant  her  submissive ;  and,  when  the  creature 
found  it  out,  she  attempted  to  run  away.  Mr.  Le  Rux 
brought  her  back  ;  but  she  was  sulky,  and  used  to  cry 
and  fret,  and  actually  grew  poor.  Mr.  Le  Rux  had  a 
few  whippings  inflicted  on  her,  but  they  did  n't  do 
any  good.  At  last,  the  agent  of  the  Bible  Society 
came  along,  and  Mr.  Le  Rux  laid  the  case  before  him. 
The  pious  man  decided  that  it  would  be  hardly  right 
to  sell  her ;  but  he  persuaded  Mr.  Le  Rux  to  give  her 
to  the  Society,  or  one  half  to  the  Bible  Society  and 


a  slaveholder's  death.  357 

one  half  to  the  Colonization  Society.  The  agent  told 
her  that  she  was  now  the  property  of  the  Lord,  and 
that  she  must  submit, in  all  things,  for  his  glory  and  the 
good  of  the  Church.  But  he  had  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  with  her,  and  at  last  had  to  resort  to  the  cow- 
hide, arguing  that  the  end  would  justify  the  means. 
And  so  it  has  proven,  for  she  has  had  a  child ;  and 
then  she  labors  real  hard,  which  makes  her  profitable 
to  the  Society.  Mr.  Le  R/ux  was  very  kind,  in 
thus  acting  so  liberally,  for  he  really  wanted  the 
money  for  himself.  The  agent  has  often  told  him 
of  the  rich  reward  he  will  reap  in  heaven,  for  this  self- 
denying  act,  and  of  the  many,  to  whom  the  gospel  has 
been  sent,  who  will  rise  up  and  call  him  blessed." 

A  deep  groan  came  from  Frank,  as  his  mother 
ceased  speaking.  But  Emily  sprang  to  her  feet ;  and, 
extending  her  hand  towards  her  aunt,  said,  "  Aunt,  my 
uncle  will  meet  his  reward."  Then,  lifting  her  eyes  to 
heaven,  she  said,  "  How  long,  O  God,  ere  thou  wilt 
avenge  this  wrong?"    Emily  then  left  the  room. 

Frank  fixed  his  eyes  upon  his  mother ;  another  deep 
groan  escaped  him,  and  he  slowly  followed  Emily. 
She  was  on  the  veranda ;  her  tears  were  flowing  rap- 
idly, while  she  occasionally  uttered  an  ejaculatory 
prayer.  For  awhile,  neither  seemed  to  have  power  to 
speak. 

At  length,  Frank  said:  "I  have  forborne  making 
any  inquiry  in  regard  to  Lucy,  since  my  return  from 
the  North,  for  fear  of  learning  that  she  had  met  with 
some  dreadful  fate.  Well  do  I  remember  how  anxious 
she  Was  to  learn  to  read.  '  Why,  Frank,'  she  would 
say,  'cannot  I  learn  to  read  the  Bible  as  well  as  you?" 

The  cousins  spent  some  time  in  farther  conversa- 


358  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

tion.  Both  finally  became  abstracted ;  and  Emily  re- 
tired  to  her  room.  There  her  thoughts  turned  upon 
her  father;  and  she  felt  exceedingly  anxious.  She 
would  write  to  him,  did  she  but  know  his  address. 
She  thought  of  his  last  words,  —  of  his  allusion  to 
France.  Was  it  not  time  to  receive  an  answer  to  her 
letter  to  Mr.  Le  Roy  ?  Her  father  had  also  written  to 
the  good  old  man.  She  remembered  his  remarks,  in 
regard  to  the  letter  he  had  given  her,  and  wondered 
what  could  be  its  contents.  But  the  time  had  not 
come  for  her  to  open  it ;  and  she  would  not  break  the 
seal,  though  she  felt  much  curiosity  in  regard  to  it. 

Emily  did  not  make  her  appearance  at  dinner,  hav- 
ing no  desire  to  meet  her  aunt.  She  did  not  visit  her 
uncle  in  his  room,  as  had  been  her  custom,  and  offer 
him  kind  attentions,  for  she  could  only  think  of  him 
with  horror.  In  fact,  her  fortitude  was  forsaking  her ; 
and  she  revolved  in  her  mind  some  plan  of  escape  from 
the  horrid  place. 

Mr.  BatteD,  whose  society  both  Emily  and  Frank 
highly  prized,  called  late  in  the  afternoon  of  this  day ; 
and  Frank,  thinking  he  might  impart  cheerfulness  to 
Emily's  mind,  invited  him  to  remain  to  tea.  But  Em- 
ily did  not  sit  with  them  long  after  the  repast.  She 
complained  of  headache,  and  again  retired. 

"  My  father  is  sleeping,"  said  Frank,  as  he  joined 
Emily  in  the  evening,  upon  the  veranda.  "  Let  me  at- 
tend you  in  a  walk.  These  things  are  killing  you ; 
and  you  are  suffering  much  from  your  close  confine- 
ment since  my  father's  illness."  Emily  was  in  much 
doubt  respecting  her  duty  to  her  uncle  :  she  finally  de- 
cided to  repress  her  indignation,  and  do  all  in  her 
power  for  him  in  his  illness.     She  also  remembered 


a  slaveholder's  death.  359 

the  words  of  her  father,  "  We  owe  him  too  much  to 
suffer  him  to  be  neglected." 

"  Will  it  be  safe  to  leave  your  father  ?  "  she  asked  of 
Frank. 

"  I  have  stationed  Nancy  in  his  room,"  was  the 
reply ;  "  and  there  cannot  possibly  be  any  danger  in 
leaving  him  for  so  short  a  time." 

Emily  did  not  reply  immediately,  and  Frank  con- 
tinued :  "  I  know,  cousin,  how  much  it  must  distress 
you  to  witness  such  scenes,  and  hear  such  horrid  talk. 
But,  should  your  father  question  me,  on  his  return,  in 
regard  to  your  pale  cheeks  and  low  spirits,  let  me  not 
have  to  tell  him  that  you  stayed  in-doors  nearly  every 
moment  during  his  absence." 

The  evening  was  inviting ;  and  Emily  soon  gave  her 
arm  to  Frank  for  a  promenade. 

Frank  strove  to  turn  Emily's  mind  from  the  things 
which  troubled  her.  He  talked  of  France,  of  her  grand- 
father, etc.  Suddenly,  he  thought  of  the  words  of  Dr. 
Willis,  "  Act  as  a  vigilance-committee  around  your 
own  dwelling."  "  There  can  be  no  danger,"  thought  he ; 
"  the  doctor  must  have  referred  entirely  to  my  uncle,  as 
he  inquired  if  Edward  Le  Rux  had  gone,  and  said  he 
would  be  followed." 

The  cousins  now  entered  the  garden,  which  was  near 
the  quarters.  Emily  had  become  quite  cheerful.  "  Let 
us  seat  ourselves  here,"  said  she ;  "  this  place  is  very  de- 
lightful." 

"  It  is  rendered  doubly  so  to-night,  by  the  bright 
moonlight,"  responded  Frank. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  France,"  said  Emily ;  "  for,  at  this 
hour,  I  used  to  sit  with  my  grandfather,  in  a  beautiful 


360  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

spot,  not  far  from  the  house,  and  hear  him  talk  of  God 
and  immortality." 

They  were  soon  in  an  earnest  conversation,  in  which 
we  must  leave  them,  and  return  to  the  house,  to  ascer- 
tain how  much  occasion  Frank  had  for  his  deep  anxiety, 
since  those  warning  words  were  spoken  to  him  by  Dr. 
Willis. 

Frank  had  not  been  absent  from  the  house  more 
than  ten  minutes,  before  there  stood  in  his  father's  room 
one,  whom  Mr.  Le  Rux  would  probably  have  recognized 
under  other  circumstances ;  for,  as  he  spoke,  he  seemed 
to  know  his  voice,  as  he  partially  raised  himself  in 
bed,  and  said,  "  It  ain't  time — you  must  wait." 

The  man  then  said  :  "  I  ish  very  sorry  you  ish  sick, 
Mr.  Le  Rux ;  but  it  ish  time  dat  I  have  my  monish." 

"  You  are  a  rogue !  Begone,"  commanded  the  sick 
man. 

"  I  ish  no  rogue,"  said  the  Jew;  "  I  only  wants  my 
monish.  You  say  dat  your  broder  vas  rich  in  France, 
and  bring  monish  to  dis  country ;  but  I  finds  he  brings 
no  monish,  and  got  nothing  but  de  girl ;  and  I  must 
have  my  monish,  and  she  would  not  bring  a  quarter  of 
it." 

"  Away !  away ! "  said  Mr.  Le  Rux,  gazing  at  him 
in  a  wild  manner.  But,  by  this  time,  the  invalid  was 
struggling  to  rise,  evidently  bewildered  and  alarmed. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  get  up,"  said  the  Jew,  as 
he  took  from  his  pocket  a  paper,  pen,  and  ink.     "  You. 
just  puts  your  name  here,  and  I  not  troubles  you  any 
more,  until  your  broder  comesh  back  from  de  North." 

He  then,  smoothed  out  the  paper  in  a  convenient 
position,  dipped  the  pen  in  the.  ink,  and  placed  it  in 


A  slaveholder's  death.  361 

the  invalid's  hand,  saying,  "  Here,  Mr.  Le^  Rux ;  put 
your  name  here." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  the  man 
said :  "  Now  ish  de  time ;  den  I  not  troubles  you  any 
more." 

For  an  instant  Mr.  Le  Rux  hesitated,  while  his 
countenance  indicated  that  he  was  becoming  more  and 
more  bewildered. 

The  Jew  again  pointed  to  the  place,  and  Mr.  Le 
Rux  wrote  his  own  name.  The  man  took  the  paper, 
pocketed  it  quickly,  and  was  leaving  the  room,  when 
Mr.  Le  Rux,  as  if  recovering  his  thoughts,  said,  "  Give 
it  here,  give  it  here  —  you  are  a  rogue." 

"  Oh,  I  ish  no  rogue,  more  dan  you,"  exclaimed  the 
Jem 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Le  Rux  glared  horribly  at  his  cred- 
itor, as  the  latter  turned  and  left  the  apartment. 

"  Edward,"  said  Mr.  Le  Rux,  incoherently,  "  I  did  n't 
break  my  promise.  Now,  brother,  take  her  away  — 
take  her  to  France  —  take  her,  I  say.  Be  quick !  be 
quick ! "  And  he  raised  his  voice  to  a  high  pitch,  as 
he  cried :  "  Money !  Yes,  here  is  money !  I  have  got 
money.     Do  you  want  your  money  ?  " 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  came  to  his  bedside.  His  eyes  glared 
fixedly ;  his  lips  ceased  to  move ;  and  he  fell  back  upon 
the  bed.  It  was  his  loud  voice  brought  Mrs.  Le  Rux 
to  the  room. 

"  William,"  she  said,  as  she  placed  her  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  "  what  does  that  man  want  with  Emily  ? 
What  was  you  saying  about  money  ?  "  Mrs.  Le  Rux 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  horror;  and,  turning  to 
Nancy,  said,  "  Where  are  Frank  and  Emily  ?  " 

31 


362  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Dey  be  .gone  to  de  garden,"  replied  Nancy. 

"  Run  instantly  for  them,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  as  she 
dropped  in  a  chair. 

"  It  is  another  shock  of  paralysis,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux, 
greatly  alarmed ;  but  she  had  so  long  relied  upon 
others,  that  she  had  now  no  confidence  in  herself. 
Dinah  had  been  her  nurse,  and  her  own  mind  had  be- 
come weak  in  an  emergency  like  this. 

"  Leave  me,  Frank,"  said  Emily,  "  and  run  to  the 
house,"  as  she  heard  Nancy's  voice  summoning  them. 
u  Something  is  wrong ;  and  you  can  get  there  sooner 
than  T  can." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

THE     KIDNAPPING    OF    EMILY    LE    RUX. 

"  I  am  weaker  than  formerly,"  thought  Emily,  as  she 
quickened  her  pace,  and  then  relaxed  it  again. 

At  this  instant,  two  men  advanced  upon  her  ;  and, 
before  she  was  aware  of  danger,  she  was  seized,  a 
plaster  was  placed  over  her  mouth,  and  her  arms  drawn 
back  and  secured  behind  her.  The  kidnappers  then 
conveyed  her  some  distance,  and  placed  her  in  a 
covered  carriage,  drawn  by  two  horses ;  and  she  was 
driven  rapidly  away,  she  knew  not  whither. 

Emily  had  never  indulged  in  romantic  reading,  and 
therefore  she  did  not  imagine  that  she  was  being  car- 
ried off  by  some  chivalrous  gentleman,  who  had  fallen 
desperately  in  love  with  her.  But  it  seemed  impossible 
to  solve  the  mystery  of  her  abduction.  The  first  con- 
clusion she  came  to  was,  that  she  was  kidnapped,  and 
that  the  design  of  those  who  had  her  in  their  posses- 
sion must  be  of  the  most  criminal  nature. 

They  rode  in  darkness  and  silence  until  the  carriage 
stopped.  The  men  alighted,  and  one  of  them  said, 
rather  sternly,  "  Come,  get  yourself  out  of  here." 

Emily  obeyed ;  not  without  some  difficulty,  however, 
as  her  hands  were  tied.  For  an  instant,  she  trembled 
at  the  prospect  before  her.  Then  lifting  her  eyes 
towards  heaven,  in  the  darkness,  she  said,  mentally : 
"  O  God  preserve  me!    Nerve  me  to  meet  all."     She. 

(363) 


364  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

was  then  taken  by  the  men  to  a  building  a  few  rods 
distant.  One  of  her  captors  applied  a  key  to  the  door, 
and  they  entered  —  Emily  knew  not  where.  But  she 
was  soon  convinced  that  it  was  a  land  of  prison-house. 
They  unlocked  another  door,  which  seemed  not  less 
strong  than  the  first.  Here  only  one  of  the  men  en- 
tered. There  was  a  dim  light  suspended  from  the 
wall.  Emily  was  now  set  at  liberty,  when  the  man, 
looking  her  full  in  the  face,  said :  "  Well,  now,  I  de- 
clare, you  are  right  pretty,  and  he  '11  get  more  than  two 
thousand  for  you  easy,  and  you  '11  be  treated  first  rate. 
You  '11  not  get  sold  again  these  ten  years,  I  '11  warrant." 
Then  muttering  to  himself :  "  He  's  a  lucky  dog  this 
time,  if  he  did  miss  it  with  the  other  gal.  But  she  ain't 
half  as  well  off  now  as  though  she  had  n't  been  so 
stubborn ;  though  he  's  got  one  of  the  same  breed 
again,  I  reckon."  Then,  turning  to  Emily,  the  brute 
continued :  "  I  'd  give  something  for  you  myself.  Can't 
you  talk  —  ha  ?  "  said  he,  as  he  put  his  finger  under  her 
chin. 

Quick  as  thought,  Emily  sprang  from  his  touch,  and 
said,  proudly,  "  If  you  have  done  your  bidding  with 
me,  leave  the  room,  sir." 

"  Oh !  you  don't  seem  to  be  dumb,  then,"  said  the 
man;  "and  you  have  quite  a  sweet  voice,  too.  But  I 
advise  you  not  to  put  on  many  airs,  miss,  when  Mr. 
Livingsworth  returns,  as  you  may  be  given  to  the 
Bible  Society,  as  Lucy  was ;  and,  after  being  whipped 
almost  to  death,  like  her,  may  be  compelled  to  a  course 
of  infamy,  besides  working  sixteen  hours  in  a  day." 

Emily  shuddered  at  his  frightful  remarks ;  but  she 
was  resolved  to  learn  all  she  could  from  him. 

"  But,  seeing  you  don't  take  much  of  a  liking  to  m^," 


EMILY   KIDNAPPED.  365 

said  Parker  (for  that  was  the  sub-kidnapper's  name), 
"  I  '11  just  give  you  a  piece  of  good  advice, — for  I  ain't 
very  hard-hearted,  myself, — and  that  is,  to  behave  your- 
self pleasantly  when  Mr.  Livingsworth  comes;  and 
don't  fret  and  spoil  your  beauty  beforehand.  You 
must  be  well  fed,  too,  for,  it  seems  to  me,  you  ain't 
in  any  too  good  order  now.  Your  hands  are  real  nice, 
for  one  who  hain't  got  to  work  any ;  but  it  would  be 
plaugy  hard  using  them  very  nimbly,  if  you  should  be 
turned  out  for  a  field-hand.  So,  as  I  've  said  before, 
don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself  when  he  gets  back.  He 's 
a  real  gentleman,  of  great  talents,  and  a  member  of  the 
church  ;  but  he  's  gone  North  now  to  attend  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  Colonization  Society,  and  is  to  be  back  in 
four  or  five  weeks." 

Parker  was  silent,  and  Emily  replied :  "  If  you  have 
finished  your  remarks,  sir,  I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions  —  if  you  will  reply  to  me  in  a  respectful 
manner." 

"  To  be  sure,  ma'am ;  I  shall  do  everything  I  do  in  a 
decent  and  respectful  manner.  I  am  an  officer,  you 
know ;  and  expect  always  to  answer  every  one  as  the 
law  directs." 

"  What  office  do  you  hold  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  I  am  a  constable." 

"  At  whose  order  did  you  arrest  me  ? "  inquired 
Emily. 

"  By  the  direction  of  a  man  from  whom  Mr.  William 
Le  Rux  borrowed  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"  And  what  can  that  have  to  do  with  me  ?  "  inquired 
Emily. 

"  Well,  now,  miss,  I  ain't  very  well  l'arned,"  said 
31* 


366  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Parker,  taking  a  paper  from  a  dirty  pocket-book,  and 
becoming  much  puzzled  in  the  effort  to  read  it. 

"  If  you  will  let  me  see  the  paper,"  said  Emily,  "  I 
think  I  can  soon  learn  what  I  wish  to  know." 

"  Can  you,  then,  read  writin'  ? "  said  Parker,  as  he 
handed  her  the  paper.  "  Well,  that 's  odd.  I  think 
somebody  ought  to  answer  to  the  law  for  that ;  for  it 's 
strictly  against  the  law  to  l'arn  a  slave  to  read.  As 
I  'm  an  officer  to  carry  out  the  laws,  I  ain't  sure  but  I 
ought  to  take  notice  of  people's  teaching  slaves  to 
read  and  write." 

A  shudder  passed  over  Emily,  as  he  pronounced  the 
word  "  slave."  She  proceeded  to  an  examination  of  the 
papers  —  for  there  were  two.  From  one,  she  learned 
that  there  had  been  money  borrowed  of  Jew  David,  to 
the  amount  of  six  thousand  dollars,  at  different  times, 
for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux,  for  which  Mr. 
William  Le  Rux  had  become  responsible.  The  other 
paper  was  a  regular  bill  of  sale  of  Emily  Le  Rux  and 
Edward  Le  Rux,  Junior,  to  Jew  David,  signed  by  her 
uncle,  William  Le  Rux. 

"  Can  I  have  the  privilege  of  writing  to  my  friends?" 
inquired  Emily,  as  she  returned  the  papers  to  the  con- 
stable. 

"  Why,  that  is  against  the  law,  I  think,"  was  the 
response. 

Emily  was  silent  a  minute  ;  and  then  asked,  "  Will 
you  tell  me  where  I  am?  " 

"  Well,  that's  what  I  was  n't  to  tell  you  just  now." 

"  You  can  then  leave  me,"  said  Emily. 

"  Well,  as  to  that,  I  would  n't  be  in  any  particular 
hurry  to  leave  sich  a  handsome  gal  as  you,  if  I  had  n't 


EMILY   KIDNAPPED.  367 

other  fish  to  fry."  So  saying,  he  departed ;  and  Emily 
heard  him  turn  the  key  upon  the  outside  of  the  door. 

Emily  saw  that  she  was  possessed  of  the  right  solu- 
tion of  the  whole  matter  —  and  now  she  had  time  for 
reflection.  She  bowed  her  head,  and  remained  lost  in 
thought  for  some  time ;  then,  rising  from  her  seat,  and 
folding  her  arms  across  her  waist,  she  said :  "  Yes,  I 
was  right  —  the  blood  of  the  Le  Ruxes  is  no  more 
noble  than  was  once  the  proud  blood  of  the  De  Wolfes. 
And,  if  God  gives  me  like  strength,  then  will  I  be  ena- 
bled to  pass  the  unjust  ordeal  as  did  Julia  De  "Wolfe." 
She  lifted  her  heart  to  the  God  of  the  defenceless,  and 
there  beamed  from  her  eye  that  holy  light  which  Frank 
had  so  often  noticed. 

"  And  my  brother  Edward,"  thought  she,  "  must  still 
live.  Well  might  my  father  be  stricken  —  well  might 
he  say  his  sins  were  many.  May  God,  in  mercy,  lead 
him  to  repentance." 

She  now  tried  to  recollect  the  face  of  her  mother,  — 
of  her  brother.  For  awhile  all  seemed  dark ;  but,  at 
last,  she  faintly  recollected  her  mother  as  she  had  looked 
when  giving  her  the  parting  kiss,  while  the  tears  coursed 
down  her  cheeks.  "  And  my  mother  was  a  slave," 
thought  Emily.  "  Yes,  she  was  like  Mary,  and  I  am 
like  Julia  De  Wolfe." 

Her  head  bowed  low  as  she  remembered  her  father, 
who  had  acted  the  part  of  Albert  De  Wolfe.  "  It  was 
not  strange,"  thought  she,  "  that  my  father  was  so  much 
affected  during  Julia's  recital.  But  he  is  more  guilty 
than  Albert." 

In  this  manner  did  Emily  spend  her  time,  for  several 
hours  after  the  departure  of  Parker,  until  she  was 
aroused  by  the  entrance  of  some  one  by  a  side-door. 


368  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Looking  up,  she  beheld  an  exceedingly  good-featured 
negro  girl,  holding  in  her  hand  a  basket,  containing 
dishes,  &c,  which  she  placed  upon  the  table,  and  then 
brought  some  breakfast  for  Emily.  The  girl  turned, 
and  looked  upon  Emily,  as  if  in  astonishment;  but 
retired  without  speaking. 

Emily  hesitated,  and  then  said  aloud,  "  O  Lord !  de- 
liver me  from  temptation."  She  then  seated  herself  at 
the  table.  The  food  was  tolerably  palatable,  but  the 
afflicted  girl  had  no  appetite,  and  ate  sparingly. 

She  arose,  walked  the  room,  and  said :  "  Father 
above,  into  thy  hands  I  commend1  myself."  Then,  re- 
clining upon  a  comfortable  bed,  she  sank  into  a  sound 
sleep,  from  which  she  did  not  awake,  until  aroused  by 
the  entrance  of  the  black  girl  again,  who  came  to  tell 
her,  that  her  master  had  said,  Emily  mus  n't  fret,  and 
spoil  her  face,  because  he  would  n't  allow  it. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  fretting,"  said  Emily.  "  I  have  been 
sleeping." 

The  girl  expressed  satisfaction  by  her  looks,  and  Em- 
ily inquired,  softly :  "  Cannot  I  go  out  into  your  room  ? 
I  would  like  to  get  some  water." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  girl,  "  mas'r  wont "  Here  she 

stopped. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Emily;  "  I  want  to 
talk  to  you,  and  I  do  not  know  what  to  call  you." 

"  They  call  me  Fanny;  but  mas'r  said  I  mus  n't  talk 
with  you." 

"  And  who  is  your  master  ?  " 

Fanny  was  silent,  and  Emily  asked,  "Is  he  a  Jew?" 

Fanny  did  not  speak,  but  nodded  her  head  affirma- 
tively. 

"  Jew  David  ?  "  asked  Emily. 


EMILY   KIDNAPPED.  369 

u  Oh  no,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  whisper.  "  He  's  old. 
But  Moloch ;  and  he 's  not  very  old."  And  again  the 
girl  disappeared. 

"  There  is  some  shrewdness  there,"  thought  Emily ; 
"  and,  if  I  manage  her  aright,  I  may  find  out  some- 
thing which  will  serve  me;  for  her  countenance, though 
melancholy,  is  kind.  But  I  would  not  bring  her  into 
trouble,  for  the  world." 

"  This  is  excellent,"  said  she,  as  she  placed  her 
hand  in  her  pocket,  and  drew  forth  a  small  Testament. 
"  Yes,  it  was  certainly  providential  that  I  changed  my 
dress  before  leaving  the  house."  The  Testament  had 
been  a  present  from  her  grandfather,  Mr.  Le  Roy ;  and 
in  it  was  written  her  name,  his  name,  the  date  of  the 
gift,  &c.  "  This  is  better  than  anything  else  I  could 
possess  here,"  exulted  Emily. 

Fanny  now  appeared,  and  said  that  mas'r  was  very 
glad  Emily  had  slept ;  and  he  gave  orders  that,  if  she 
wanted  to  go  out  into  the  yard,  Fanny  might  accom- 
pany her  there. 

"  I  will  go  now,"  was  Emily's  cheerful  answer. 

"  Come,  then,"  said  Fanny,  leading  the  way. 

They  passed  through  two  strong  doors  into  an  alley, 
not  more  than  three  feet  wide,  with  a  very  high  wall  on 
the  outer  side. 

"  I  am  indeed  a  prisoner,"  reflected  Emily,  as  she 
lifted  her  eyes,  and  beheld  the  blue  sky  above  her. 
"  But '  courage,  and  trust  in  God,'  shall  be  my  motto. 
What  place  is  this  ? "  inquired  she  of  Fanny.  "  I 
never  saw  any  building  like  it  before  in  my  life." 

Fanny  shook  her  head ;  and,  as  Emily  entered  the 
door  again,  and  looked  directly  up  in  front,  her  eyes 
met  not  only  extreme  darkness,  but  a  pair  of  glittering 


i 


370  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

eyes  peering  through  it.  She  was  terrified  ;  but,  striv- 
ing to  appear  composed,  she  re-entered  her  room,  Fanny 
following  her. 

"  Whose  eyes  were  those  looking  at  me  ? "  she  in- 
quired, as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed. 

"  Mas'r's,"  said  Fanny,  in  a  whisper.  "  He  wanted 
to  see  if  you  looked  'andsome  ;  but  he  did  n't  want  you 
to  see  him." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  he  did  n't  want  you  to  know  him ;  and,  besides, 
he  says  he  don't  want  to  scare  you,  because  he  wants  you 
to  look  rael  'andsome ;  and  he  's  afraid  you  '11  fret  and 
cry,  and  make  yourself  sick.  I  am  afraid  that  he  will 
hark,  and  hear  us  talk."     Fanny  left  the  room  hurriedly. 

"  I  am  fearful,  too,"  thought  Emily,  as  she  seemed  to 
see  those  horrid  eyes  still  peering  at  her,  "  that  my  cour- 
age will  fail,  and  my  plans  too ;  for  I  meant  to  have 
asked  Fanny  for  pen  and  paper.  But  the  Lord  is  the 
same  everywhere !  "  And  she  opened  her  Testament 
to  seek  consolation  therefrom.  She  found  it  impossible, 
however,  to  calm  her  spirits.  She  rose,  and  proceeded 
to  an  examination  of  the  windows.  There  was  an 
outer  wall,  which  was  also  lighted  by  windows,  through 
which  the  light  passed  to  the  windows  of  her  room. 
This,  then,  was  what  rendered  her  room*less  light  than 
common  apartments.  "  Let  me  bear  it  patiently," 
she  resolved. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  efforts  to  maintain  equanimity, 
er  heart  sunk  within  her.     She  thought  of  Frank — of 

r.  Willis  —  of  Mr.  Battell.  "  Was  there  any  prospect 
thai  Bhe  could  be  sought  out  and  liberated?  But 
no,"  she  lamented ;  "lam  claimed  as  a  slave,  and  am 
now  the  legal  property  of  Jew  David."     She  thought 


EMILY   KIDNAPPED.  371 

of  her  father  —  of  what  would  be  his  feelings  upon  his 
return  —  of  his  letter  to  Mr.  Le  Roy,  and  of  the  one  he 
had  given  her  at  parting.  "  It  was  a  knowledge  of  all 
this,"  she  considered,  "  that  made  him  bid  me  fly  to 
France,  in  case  he  did  not  return.  And  the  letter  which 
he  gave  me  undoubtedly  explains  it  all."  But,  alas !  it 
was  left  at  her  uncle's  when  she  was  abducted.  Still, 
Emily  was  sure  she  was  only  one  .night's  drive  from  her 
uncle's,  though  she  had  no  idea  of  her  present  locality. 
She  only  knew  that  her  kidnappers  came  in  an  opposite 
direction  from  the  city ;  and,  from  what  she  could  dis- 
cern in  the  darkness,  she  believed  they  travelled  through 
a  thinly  inhabited  district.  Before  reaching  the  prison- 
house,  Emily  recollected  that  the  road  became  bad,  as 
if  the  ground  were  wet,  or  marshy. 

"  And  this  is  slavery ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  This  is  the 
liberty  of  America,  of  which  my  father  boasted,  when 
he  took  me  from  the  grandfather  whom  I  loved  —  who 
offered,  and  would  gladly  have  afforded,  me  protection. 
And  where  is  my  father  now  ?  Gone  to  undo,  if  pos- 
sible, the  wrong  he  has  done.  But  he  can  never  undo 
the  wrong  he  has  done  to  me  ! " 

The  tears  flowed  freely,  to  her  decided  relief.  "  Oh ! " 
moaned  she,  "  there  will  be  none  here  to  shield,  or  offer 
kindness  to  me,  as  I  did  to  poor  Julia  De  Wolfe.  And 
it  was  to  see  me  that  the  base,  hypocritical  Livingsworth 
came  so  often  to  the  house  of  my  uncle ;  and  I  then 
shuddered  at  his  impudent  look,  for  I  felt  that  it  was 
contaminating.  Base  hypocrite! "  she  repeated,  loudly, 
as  she  instinctively  felt  in  her  pocket  for  some  weapon. 

Emily  thought  of  her  mother,  and  of  her  father's  words 
upon  leaving  her.  "  My  mother  must  have  died  when 
I  was  very  young,  for  they  told  me  so ;  but  where  is  my 


;;7l:  vbe  corsb  entailed. 

brother  ?  He  a  slave ! "  She  turned  to  a  small  mirror, 
which  hung  suspended  from  the  wall,  and  gazed  upon 
the  reflection  of  her  features.  "  Color,  then,  or  negro 
blood,  don't  make  one  a  slave,  nor  being  white  make 
one  free,"  said  she.  "  I  have  seen  many  blacks  free,  yet 
I,  purely  white,  am  a  slave.  It  is  strange,"  said  she, 
examining  her  beautiful  hair,  and  liftin'g  it  from  her 
pure  white  brow,  while  she  again  stood  before  the  glass, 
"  that  people  should  have  ever  thought  that,  in  order  to 
be  a  slave,  one  must  have  a  little  African  blood.  Union- 
bewitched  persons  will  yet  learn  that  slavery  has  no 
respect  to  color,  blood,  or  nation.  The  day  is  not  far 
distant,  when  her  millions  of  slaves  will  teach  their 
masters  that  they  are  all  '  native  Americans,'  and  anti- 
slavery  in  principle. 

"  There  is  hope ! "  said  she,  as  she  stopped  and  stood 
with  her  eyes  lifted  to  heaven.  "  Go.d  is  just ;  and  did 
he  not  take  Julia  to  himself  ?  Did  he  not  send  his 
guardian  spirit  to  watch  over,  and  lift  up  her  spirit  to 
him  ?  And  did  she  not  escape  from  that  which  is 
worse  than  death  ?  And  thou  wilt  protect  me,  O  God ! " 
said  she,  as  she  lifted  her  heart  to  him ;  "  give  thine 
angels  charge  concerning  me,  lest  I  dash  my  foot 
against  a  stone."  Her  spirit  trusted  in  the  living  God, 
and  there  was  resignation,  and  a  holy  light,  in  her  eye. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  out,  to-night  ?  "  asked  Fanny, 
as  she  opened  the  door. 

Emily  answered  in  the  affirmative;  and  Fanny 
instantly  led  the  way.  As  she  lingered  in  the  alley,  she 
was  itartled  by  the  sound  of  a  voice,  which  seemed  to 
be  but  a  few  feet  from  her,  within  the  building.  The 
words  were  indistinct,  but  they  appeared  to  be  those  of 
supplication,  and  were  succeeded  by  a  scream.     This 


EMILY    KIDNAPPED.  373 

was  followed  by  loud  oaths  from  some  one  in  reply, 
accompanied  with  blows.  Emily  had  scarcely  power 
to  stand  upon  her  feet. 

"  He  ain't  here,"  said  Fanny,  opening  the  outer  door, 
and  she  appeared  as  if  acting  under  less  restraint  than 
formerly.  Fanny  entered  the  room  with  Emily,  and, 
closing  the  door,  said :  "  Master  said,  I  must  look  in  your 
pocket,  and  all  over  your  bed,  and  in  the  room,  and 
bring  away  all  your  things ;  and,  if  I  don't  do  it,  he 
will  beat  me  dreadfully." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  you  may  search  me ;  I  have 
nothing  but  a  Testament,  and  your  master  will  allow 
me  to  keep  that,  I  think." 

"  That  is  a  strange  thing  to  have  here,"  said  Fanny. 
"  I  have  not  seen  one  since  I  came  here ;  but  I  used  to 
have  one  myself." 

"  Can  you  read  ?  "  inquired  Emily. 

"  I  don't  know,"  repiied  Fanny.  "  I  expect  I  have 
almost  forgotten  how  ;  for  I  hav  n't  tried  since  I  came 
here." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  ?  " 

"  Oh,  'way  up  in  Ohio." 

"  But  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

Here  Fanny  put  her  ear  to  the  door,  and  listened. 
She  then  seated  herself  by  Emily,  and  said :  "  I  lived 
with  black  Isaac  and  Minta,  on  the  canal,  and  my  name 
was  Amy  then.  Isaac  was  dreadful  ugly  to  me. 
Minta  said  she  took  me  from  my  mother,  'way  down 
in  the  south  part  of  Ohio,  on  the  Muskingum  river. 
Minta  could  n't  read,  but  Isaac  could ;  and  he  pretended 
to  be  very  good,  and  j'ined  the  church.  Minta  was 
real  good,  though  shjs  did  n't  talk  half  as  much  about 
religion  as  Isaac  did.     A  good  many  people  came  to 

32 


374  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

their  house,  because  Isaac  was  'so  good;'  and  he  used 
to  get  his  hymn-book,  and  sing  dreadful  loud.  Some  of 
the  students  used  to  call,  and  they  wanted  me  to  go  to 
school  and  learn  to  read.  The  school-house  was  right 
down  under  the  hill,  a  little  ways,  and  I  was  greatly 
tickled  about  it.  Minta  sent  some  eggs  to  the  store, 
and  bought  me  a  nice,  new  spelling-book.  She  washed 
my  dress  all  clean,  and  I  went  to  school.  I  was  a  lit- 
tle scared  when  I  opened  the  door.  '  The  school-marm 
told  me  to  sit  down  on  a  little  bench.  I  held  my  nice 
spelling-book  in  my  hand,  and  looked  up  at  the  boys 
and  girls,  thinking  they  would  be  real  glad  I  'd  come  to 
learn  to  read.  But  they  made  faces  at  me,  and,  when 
the  school-marm  told  me  to  stand  up  by  her,  and  read, 
they  snickered  right  out ;  and  one  or  two  of  them  that 
was  close  by  me,  pushed  away,  to  get  further  from  me ; 
and  one  of  the  girls  called  me  a  '  nigger.'  When  I  was 
going  home,  she  said  her  father  was  '  one  of  the  com- 
mittee,' and  that  he  would  turn  me  out  of  school. 
And,  sure  enough,  the  next  morning,  when  I  got  to  the 
school-house,  two  men  were  there ;  and  they  told  me  to 
1  go  right  straight  home,'  for  they  would  n't  have  their 
children  attend  school  with  a  nigger. 

"  The  school-marm  looked  very  sorry,  and  so  did 
two  of  the  littie  girls.  But  the  rest  all  giggled  right 
out.  I  was  so  scared  that  I  could  n't  start ;  and  one 
of  the  men  cached  hold  of  my  arm,  and  twitched  me 
to  the  door,  and  pushed  me  so  hard  that  I  hit  my  head 
against  the  door-post,  and  then  I  cried  right  out.  This 
made  the  school-marm  real  mad.  She  came  out  to 
the  door,  and  told  me  not  to  cry ;  and  looked  at  my 
head  where   it  thumped  against  the  door.     And   she 


EMILY    KIDNAPPED.  o75 

said  it  was  a  burning  shame  to  treat  me  so,  and  I  seed 
the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Isaac  was  dreadful  mad ;  and  he  swore,  and  said 
he  fought  for  liberty  in  the  war,  and  that  Gineral  Jack- 
son wan't  too  good  to  speak  to  him,  and  had  done  it 
many  a  time.  And  he  said  he  fought  under  Gineral 
Jackson,  before  he  run  away  from  his  master,  down  in 
the  South;  and  that  the  gineral  thought  a  heap  of 
him,  he  was  such  a  good  soldier.  And  he  would  see 
if  I  could  n't  go  to  school." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  tell  about  Isaac  some  other 
time ;  but  I  want  to  hear  how  you  learned  to  read,  and 
how  you  came  here." 

Fanny  listened  again  at  the  door ;  then,  re-seating 
herself  by  Emily,  she  continued :  "  Isaac  tried  to  make 

a  fuss  about  my  not  going  to  school,  but  Mr. 

told  him  it  was  no  use  ;  that  there  was  a  law  in  Ohio 
against  it,  and  that  I  should  n't  go  near  the  school.  I 
cried  dreadfully  about  it,  and  one  of  the  students  told 
Isaac  he  must  learn  me  to  read  ;  and  he  did  it.  Minta 
said  he  did  it  to  make  the  students  think  he  was  very 
good.  For  he  used  to  kick  and  pound  Minta,  and  tie 
me  up  by  my  thumbs,  and  whip  me.  I  was  n't  more 
than  ten  years  old,  when  he  hired  me  out  to  Capt. 

S ,  to  wait  upon  the  ladies  on  a  canal-boat.     Minta 

cried  about  it ;  but  he  would  have  me  go  on  the  boat ; 
and,  when  I  got  to  Portsmouth,  he  took  me  to  Ken- 
tucky, and  sold  me  for  three  hundred  dollars.  And  I 
heard  the  captain  tell  the  man  who  bought  me  that  he 
would  bring  him  some  more  niggers.  My  master  took 
me  to  New  Orleans,  with  a  great  many  more  ;  and 
Moloch  came  and  brought  me  here.     He  says  he  gets 


«* 


376  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

a  great  many  slaves  that  way ;  and  that  there  is  a  com- 
pany of  kidnappers  all  along  from  here  up  to  Ohio." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  this  place  is  ? "  'asked 
Emily,  "  and  how  far  we  are  from  New  Orleans  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Fanny,  "  for  Moloch  brought 
me  here  in  the  night,  and  I  hav  n't  been  outside  but 
a  few  times  since.     But  I  must  bring  your  supper." 

It  was  soon  brought ;  and,  while  Emily  was  eating, 
she  asked  Fanny :  "  Why  did  Moloch  want  you  to 
search  me  ?     Did  he  think  I  had  money  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  's  afraid  you  '11  do  as  Bernice  did." 

"What  did  she  do?" 

"  She  killed  herself." 
."Killed  herself!"  repeated  Emily,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Yes.  They  brought  her  here  from  Tennessee  ;  and 
Mr.  Vanwilkins  was  to  give  them  two  thousand  dollars 
for  her,  because  she  was  'andsome.  But  when  he 
came  here,  she  made  a  dreadful  fuss,  and  he  went  off 
swearing.  And  then  Moloch  came  in,  and  struck  her 
on  the  head,  and  swore  at  her,  and  kicked  her,  and  told 
her  he  would  sell  her  for  a  field-hand.  When  he  went 
out,  she  took  a  knife  and  cut  her  throat." 

"  Cut  her  throat ! "  repeated  Emily,  still  more  hor- 
rified. 

"  Yes,  as  I  was  just  coming  into  the  room.  And  it 
was  right  here  she  stood,"  continued  Fanny,  as  she 
placed  her  foot  upon  a  particular  spot  on  the  floor; 
and  here  is  the  stain  of  the  blood  now,  and  I  can't  get 
it  out  of  the  floor  no  how." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?  "  asked  Emily,  with  a  voice 
which  betrayed  her  emotion. 

"  I  had  n't  oughter  told  you  anything  about  it,"  said 
Fanny,  "  for  you  're  scared." 


EMILY   KIDNAPPED.  377 

"  But  do  tell  me  what  you  did,"  said  Emily. 

"  Oh,  I  ran  and  told  Moloch." 

"  What  did  he  do  ?  " 

"  He  did  n't  do  anything  but  lack  her,  and  pull  her 
out  into  the  alley,  and  bury  her  in  a  hole  there." 

"  And  what  did  Mr.  Vanwilkins  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  called  her  a  fool ;  and  told  Moloch  to  get 
him  another  and  handsomer  wench,  if  he  could." 
Fanny  then  withdrew. 

32* 


CHAPTER     XXXVI 

FANNY'S  DISCLOSURES  TO   EMILY. 


When  left  alone,  Emily  felt  a  tremor  come  over  her ; 
and,  in  spite  of  herself,  her  eyes  constantly  wandered 
in  the  direction  of  the  blood-stain  upon  the  floor,  while 
she  seemed  to  see  the  poor  girl,  as  she  put  the  knife  to 
her  throat,  and  then  fell,  weltering  in  her  blood.  At 
length,  rising  from  her  seat,  and  pacing  the  floor,  she 

said  aloud,  "  Yes,  death  before ,"  and  her  hand 

moved  towards  her  pocket.  "  But  I  have  no  knife," 
thought  she.  She  was  still  pacing  the  floor  when 
Fanny  re-entered  the  room. 

"  Moloch  will  be  out  to-night,"  said  she ;  "  and  I 
don't  like  to  stay  in  there  alone,  I  hear  such  noises. 
I  'd  like  to  lie  down  here  upon  the  floor,  if  you  will  let 
me." 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  Emily,  "  I  would  like  to  have  you 
very  much.  Can't  you  bring  your  bed,  and  spread  it 
in  here  ?  " 

"  I  'd  scatter  the  straw,"  replied  Fanny ;  "  and  then 
Moloch  might  know  it." 

"Does  Moloch  ever  go  away  from  here?"  asked 
Emily. 

"  Once  in  awhile  he  goes  to  peddle,"  replied  Fanny ; 
"  but  he  ain't  gone  long.  The  last  time,  he  was  gone  a 
good  while ;  but  David  was  here  then." 

"  Where  does  David  live  ?  " 

(378) 


EMILY   IN   PRISON.  379 

*■  Oh,  I  reckon  he  stays  in  the  city,  because  he  has  a 
kind  of  trade." 

«  What  kind  ?  » 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  here  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  Miss  Emily.  They  used  to  have 
weeks  and  Sundays,  so  that  we  might  know  when  it 
was  a  year,  up  in  Ohio ;  but  there  ain't  any  such  things 
here,  though  Moloch  says  that  I  'm  eighteen  years  old 
now." 

"  Are  you  sleepy  ?  " 

"  Not  very." 

"  Do  you  have  to  work  hard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  to  work  awful  hard,  sometimes." 

"  What  is  your  work  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  cook,  and  wash  all  the  clothes  for  David  and 
Moloch,  and  a  good  many  others ;  and  then  I  wash 
and  scour  all  the  things  David  sends  here,  and  fix  the 
spoons  and  things,  so  that  they  will  look  like  new,  and 
I  wash  all  the  clothes  he  gets  off  the  dead  folks  —  and 
do  everything." 

Emily  was  not  willing  to  keep  Fanny  awake,  but  she 
was  fearful  of  losing  so  good  an  opportunity,  and  she 
said,  "  Who  made  the  noise,  when  we  were  out  in  the 
alley,  to-night  ?  " 

"  Why,  it 's  Mariana,  Moloch's  woman,"  replied 
Fanny ;  "  he  got  her  somewhere,  a  long  time  ago,  and 
she  hates  him  dreadfully.  And  he  beats  and  pounds 
her  sometimes,  when  she  takes  her  spells.  She  had  a 
child  when  Moloch  got  her,  and  he  sold  it,  and  she 
cried  dreadfully ;  and,  every  time  she  has  a  spell,  she 
calls  her  child  all  the  time,  and  then  Moloch  beats  her 
harder.     Sometimes  she  won't  eat  anything,  because? 


380  THE    CL'KSE    ENTAILED. 

she  says,  Moloch  is  going  to  poison  her.  She  says,  if 
it  was  n't  for  her  children,  she  would  like  to  die.  Jew 
David  wants  Moloch  to  kill  her ;  but  he  says,  he  '11 
never  have  blood  on  his  hands  again." 

Emily  ceased  speaking,  and  Fanny  was  soon  asleep. 
Emily,  however,  could  in  no  wise  calm  her  mind,  and 
sleep  would  not  come  to  her  relief.  She  spent  the 
night  in  pondering  upon  what  she  had  seen  and  heard, 
and  in  endeavoring  to  devise  some  means  for  her 
escape.  She  strove  to  nerve  herself  to  meet  the  future ; 
but,  alas !  when  she  had  resolved,  those  horrid  eyes,  or 
the  beautiful  girl  cutting  her  own  throat,  were  her 
imaginary  companions. 

Fanny  came  twice  each  day,  regularly,  to  attend 
upon  Emily.  Emily  often  went  into  the  passage,  and 
she  several  times  saw,  through  the  darkness,  the  horrid 
eyes  peering  at  her  on  her  return. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  "  said  Fanny,  one  day,  as 
she  took  up  the  Testament.  "  It  is  so  'andsome  on  the 
kiver,  and  little,  too.  Mine,  that  I  had  in  Ohio,  wasn't 
one  bit  like  this.  Here  is  a  name,  too,"  said  she,  as 
she  pointed  to  the  writing  on  the  blank  leaf. 

Emily  felt  disposed  to  be  quite  indulgent  to  Fanny, 
and  she  replied,  "  My  grandfather  gave  it  to  me,  when 
I  was  in  France." 

Fanny  examined  the  name  very  critically,  and  then 
said,  "  I  never  did  learn  to  read  writing." 

Emily  took  the  book,  and  read  thus,  "  Emily  Le 
Rux;  presented  to  her  by  her  grandfather,  Americus 
Le  Roy.     Paris,  1848." 

Fanny  started,  hesitated  for  a  minute,  and  then  said, 
"  That 's  what  the  French  woman  called  her  name." 

"  Who  was  the  French  woman  ?  "  asked  Emily. 


II 


EMILY    IN    PRISON.  381 

"  Oh,  I  never  saw  her,"  replied  Fanny;  "only  I've 
heard  them  talk  about  her ;  and  I  know  that 's  the 
name.     She  was  dead  before  I  came  here." 

"  That  is  strange ! "  thought  Emily,  "  a  French 
woman  —  and  her  name  Le  Roy ! "  She  then  recol- 
lected that  Mr.  Le  Roy  had  often  told  her  that  his  wife 
was  lost  on  her  passage  to  America.  She  inquired  of 
Fanny  for  paper,  pen,  and  ink ;  but  she  could  get  none, 
as  Fanny  said  David  always  brought  them,  and  then 
took  them  away  with  him. 

"  Moloch  has  gone  on  a  peddling  trip,  to-day,"  said 
Fanny,  as  she  entered  the  room,  one  morning.  "  Nehe- 
miah  came  last  night.  I  don't  know  what  they  were 
talking  about;  but  Moloch  said  he  would  be  gone 
several  days  ;  and  he  told  me  to  bring  you  some  other 
clothes  to  put  on,  and  then  wash  yours  all  clean,  as  he 
wants  you  to  look  rael  nice." 

Emily  was  agitated,  as  she  said :  "  Can't  you  let  me 
out  of  this  place  ?  I  will  take  you  with  me,  and  give 
you  your  liberty,  if  we  can  get  out." 

"  Oh,  no ! "  said  Fanny ;  "  I  don't  know  any  way  to 
do  it.  The  doors  are  all  locked  on  the  outside,  except 
the  one  where  we  go  out,  and  nobody  can  get  out  from 
there ;  besides,  David  has  sent  in  the  dogs  by  Nehe- 
miah,  and  they  are  to  stay  till  Moloch  gets  back ;  and, 
if  we  were  to  attempt  to  get  away,  they  would  tear  us 
to  pieces.  I  'd  do  it,  if  I  could.  I  've  thought  of  get- 
ting away  myself,  a  great  many  times ;  and  then  I  'd 
go  and  find  Minta.  I  don't  think  anybody  ever  goes 
away  from  here,  except  such  as  you,  that  are  sold  to 
gentlemen,  and  the  children  that  he  sells,  when  they  are 
big  enough.  He  don't  have  very  many  of  them  now, 
though  Nehemiah  brought  one  in  last  night." 


382  THE    CURSE   ENTAfLED. 

"  Where  do  they  get  the  children  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  Well,"  replied  Fanny,  "  when  they  are  little,  like 
this  one,  somebody  gives  them  to  him.  Their  mothers 
are  generally  gentlemen's  daughters,  and  they  don't 
want  such  things  known.  They  sometimes  give  Moloch 
something  to  take  them  and  feed  them ;  and,  when  they 
are  big  enough,  he  sells  them.  Sometimes  he  gets 
one  that  ain't  a  bit  black.  This  one,  that  he  last 
brought  in,  is  a  little  one;  and  it  will  make  Mariana 
have  spells,  if  she  hears  it  cry." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  with  her,  if  she  has  a 
spell?"  asked  Emily. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Fanny.  "  Nehemiah  is  here ; 
but  he  can't  do  much,  for  he  hain't  got  but  one  arm. 
Moloch  told  me  to  give  the  child  some  laudanum,  and 
keep  it  quiet,  so  that  Mariana  would  n't  hear  it." 

"  Where  is  Nehemiah  ?  " 

"  He 's  lying  down,"  replied  Fanny.  "  He  says 
he 's  sick ;  and  he  wants  me  to  make  him  some  herb 
tea." 

"  Bring  me  the  child,"  said  Emily,  "  and  I  will  en- 
deavor to  keep  it  quiet,  while  you  are  prepareing  the 
tea  for  Nehemiah ;  and,  if  you  have  any  left,  I  wish 
you  would  bring  me  some,  for  my  head  aches."  It  is 
not  surprising  that  her  head  did  ache,  after  the  excite- 
ment she  had  undergone  for  the  past  few  days. 

Fanny  soon  returned  with  the  tea,  —  and  also  some 
laudanum  which  she  intended  for  the  child.  These  *he 
gave  to  Emily,  as  also  a  tea-cup  containing  some 
sweetened  water.  Turning  to  the  window,  she  pre- 
tended to  drop  some  laudanum  in  the  beverage  for  the 
child.  She  then  handed  the  cup  to  Fanny,  who  soon 
disappeared  with   it.     Taking  the  cup,  containing  the 


EMILY   IN   PRISON.  383 

tea  for  Nehemiah,  she  drank  part  of  it,  and  then 
poured  into  it  no  less  than  sixty  drops  of  laudanum. 

Fanny  soon  made  her  appearance  again ;  and,  tak- 
ing the  herb  tea,  went  to  administer  it  to  Nehemiah. 

"  I  will  now  get  more  freedom,"  thought  Emily,  as 
Fanny  disappeared ;  "  and,  if  here  is  to  come  my 
death,  I  will,  at  least,  learn  all  I  can  of  the  iniquities 
of  this  prison-house.  I  am  determined,  if  I  can,  to 
escape,  and,  if  this  plan  does  not  work,  I  will  try  a 
dose  of  laudanum  on  Fanny." 

Emily  remained  in  a  listening  attitude  for  some  min- 
utes —  when  she  heard  some  one  advancing  rapidly 
with  the  child,  which  was  crying  loudly.  She  threw 
open  the  door,  and  Fanny  entered  with  the  child,  and 
endeavored  to  close  the  door,  but  there  was  one  behind 
her,  whose  strength  overpowered  her.  Fanny  was  evi- 
dently in  much  alarm,  and  endeavored  to  escape  from 
the  room ;  but  the  woman  gave  a  wild  scream,  and 
sprang  between  her  and  the  door.  As  Fanny  again 
turned,  Mariana  sprang  forward,  and  caught  hold  of 
the  child,  kissed  it,  and  said,  "  My  sweet  little  Agnes, 
come  to  your  dear  mother." 

"  Be  calm,  Mariana,"  said  Emily,  "  and  you  shall 
have  the  child."  Mariana  turned  her  eyes  upon  Emily, 
and  said:  "  Oh,  you  have  come,  have  you?  I  knew 
the  Lord  would  send  an  angel  to  open  these  doors." 

Emily  took  the  child,  and  said,  "  Come,  Mariana, 
and  see  if  this  is  your  child." 

Mariana  came  forward,  and,  dropping  upon  her 
knees  beside  the  child,  examined  it  very  minutely  for 
some  time,  during  which  no  one  spoke  to  her.  She 
appeared  to  be  in  deep  thought,  "Agnes! "  said  she,  at 
last. 


i 


384  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

The  child,  which  had  manifested  some  signs  of  ter- 
ror, now  became  more  terrified,  and  clung  to  Emily. 
This  seemed  to  distress  Mariana  very  much  ;  but  she 
said,  with  something  of  a  Scotch  brogue :  "  This  is  not 
my  child ;  Agnes  had  blue  eyes,  and  was  bigger  than 
this  one." 

Her  reasoning  faculties  seemed  to  have  returned,  as 
she  appeared  quite  collected.  She  seated  herself, 
dropped  her  head  upon  her  breast,  and  seemed  lost  in 
a  reverie. 

Emily  had  now  time  to  observe  her  closely,  and  she 
thought  she  had  never  seen  a  white  man,  or  woman, 
present  so  miserable  an  appearance.  Her  clothes  did 
not  fit;  besides,  they  were  scarcely  sufficient  to  be 
called  a  covering ;  and  she  was  without  shoe  or  stock- 
ing. There  was  a  constant  moving  of  her  hand,  foot, 
or  head.  At  length,  the  child  made  a  noise  ;  Marian  a 
gave  a  sudden  bound,  and  again  attempted  to  seize  it. 

"  Be  calm,"  said  Emily.  "  If  this  is  your  child,  you 
shall  have  it.     But  I  want  to  know  your  name  first." 

The  woman  turned,  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  faced  about,  fixed  her  sunken  eyes  fully  upon 
Emily,  and  then,  lifting  her  hand  towards  heaven, 
said,  "  I  swear,  by  the  living  God,  that  my  name  is 
Mariana  Rothschild ;  and  that  is  my  child ; "  and  she 
again  sprang  forward.  So  sudden  had  been  her  move- 
ment, that,  before  Emily  was  even  aware  of  her  intent, 
she  had  taken  the  child  and  pressed  it.to  her  lips.  The 
cliild  commenced  a  most  piteous  cry,  and  turned  her 
face  towards  Emily,  with  an  appealing  look.  "  Well,  it 
is  not  mine,"  said  Mariana,  as  she  placed  her  again  in 
the  lap  of  Emily. 


I 


EMILY  IN  PKISON.  385 

"  No,"  said  Emily,  "  this  cannot  be  your  child ;  for 
yours  has  most  probably  grown  large  by  this  time." 

"  Oh,  I  know ;  I  know !  But  I  forgot  it.  Grown 
large?  —  of  course." 

At  this  instant,  perceiving  the  small  mirror  which 
hung  suspended  from  the  wall,  Mariana  approached  it, 
and  beheld  in  it  her  haggard  features.  She  started 
back,  uttered  a  wild  scream,  and  said,  pointing  to  her 
own  reflection  in  the  glass, "  Who  is  that?  It  ain't  me ; 
it  ain't  Mariana !  It  must  be  somebody  else.  I  know 
/  ainH  Rebecca,  though  Moloch  says  I  am."  Then, 
raising  her  arm,  she  said,  with  emphasis,  "  I  solemnly 
swear,  I  will  be  Mariana  Rothschild,  now  and  forever!" 

"  She  has  n't  seen  a  looking  glass  before,"  said  Fanny, 
"  since  she  came  here  ;  for  there  ain't  any  in  the  house 
but  this  ;  and  Moloch  has  never  let  her  come  in  here. 
Moloch  has  tried  to  beat  her  out  of  her  old  name,  but 
can't." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Emily, "  and  be  composed.  I  want 
to  talk  with  you." 

Mariana  obeyed;  but  her  thoughts  were  evidently 
upon  the  face  in  the  mirror.  Emily  gave  the  child 
again  to  Fanny,  then,  taking  hold  of  both  of  Mariana's 
hands,  she  looked  steadily  into  her  eyes,  and  said  : 

"  You  have  been  somewhat  bewildered,  Mariana ; 
but  perhaps  I  can  do  you  good,  if  you  will  listen  to  me, 
and  not  allow  your  mind  to  wander." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mariana ;  "  I  knew  you  were  com- 
ing ;  but  I  forgot.     Oh !  I  am  so  glad  you  came." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Emily,  "you  see  I  am  here. 
And  now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  your  husband's 
name  was." 

Mariana  made  an  effort  to  rise,  when  Emily  released 


386  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

her  hold.  She  arose  as  before,  and  said,  "  1  swear,  by 
the  living  God,  that  my  husband's  name  was  William 
Rothschild."  Having  done  this,  she  re-seated  herself, 
and  Emily  again  took  her  hands. 

"  Where  is  your  husband  now  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  He  is  dead  !  murdered ! "  said  Mariana.  "  Moloch 
says  he  did  n't  do  it ;  but  I  swear,  by  the  living  God, 
that  I  saiv  him  and  Jew  David  do  it." 

"  How  long  ago  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  I  thought  it  was  n't  more  than 
six  years.  It  must  have  been  a  great  while  ago,  if  I 
am  Mariana  Rothschild — I  have  grown  so  old." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  I  think  the  Lord  will  let  me 
do  you  good,  if  you  won't  have  any  more  of  these 
spells.  But  you  must  not  say  anything  to  Moloch,  or 
David,  about  your  husband  or  your  name,  nor  anything 
about  your  child.  When  we  get  out  of  this  place,  we 
will  try  to  find  out  all  about  your  husband  and  child ; 
and  you  must  remember  all  I  tell  you.  I  will  pray  the 
Lord  to  deliver  us  from  this  place,  and  I  want  you  to 
pray  too." 

"  Well,  I  used  to  pray,"  said  Mariana ;  "  but  the 
Lord  did  not  hear  me ;  and  Moloch  sneeringly  told  me 
there  was  n't  any  God,  and  I  had  spells  in  con- 
sequence." 

"  But  there  is  a  God,"  said  Emily.  "  I  know  there 
is,  and  he  will  hear  us  when  we  pray,  and  deliver  us  in 
his  own  time.  You  must  pray  to  him  as  you  used  to ; 
then  you  will  not  have  the  spells,  and  we  will  get  out 
of  this  place." 

"Well,  I  will!  I  will!"  said  Mariana,  a  light  ap- 
ing in  her  eye,  which,  Emily  thought,  indicated  a 
urn  of  reason.     "  I  used  to  ask  the  Lord  U>  send  me 


EMILY   IN   PRISON.  387 

an  angel  to  open  these  prison-doors ;  and  I  believe  you 
are  that  angel." 

"  Mariana,  I  am  going  to  pray  the  Lord  to  deliver 
us,"  said  Emily. 

Emily  did  not  rise  from  her  seat,  neither  did  she  re- 
linquish her  hold  of  Mariana's  hands.  She  prayed  aloud, 
in  the  most  fervent  manner,  that  God  would  restore  the 
mind  of  Mariana ;  that  he  would  deliver  her  from  this 
place,  and  restore  to  her  her  child. 

She  was  struck  as  she  beheld  the  change  that  had 
come  over  the  countenance  of  Mariana,  at  the  close  of 
the  prayer.  "  There  is  hope  for  her,"  thought  Emily ; 
"  for  there  is  a  calmness  upon  her  face  which  cannot  be 
mistaken." 

"  But  you  did  not  pray  for  Fanny,"  said  Mariana. 

"  Oh !  I  have  often  prayed  for  her,"  said  Emily ; 
"  and  she  was  in  my  mind  now,  when  I  prayed  that 
we  might  be  delivered." 

"  This  is  an  awful  place,"  said  Mariana.  "  I  had  a 
brother  who  came  with  me  to  America,  when  I  came 
from  Scotland.  He  saw  all  that  David  and  Moloch 
did  to  my  husband.  They  took  my  brother's  money 
also  from  him,  and  then  they  struck  Mm  9a  the  head. 
I  do  not  know  what  became  of  him ;  but  Moloch  says 
he  is  not  deafl.  Moloch  has  sometimes  threatened  to 
kill  me  ;  but  I  told  him  so  much  about  the  mark  of  a 
murderer  that  he  is  afraid  to  do  it.  He  belongs  to  the 
company." 

"  What  company?  " 

"  The  robbing  and  kidnapping  company." 

Emily  inquired  whether  she  knew  where  the  house 
they  were  in  was  situated. 

"  It  is  somewhere — in  the  vicinity  of  some  place," 


388  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

replied  Mariana,  abstractedly ;  "  but  I  cannot  remember 
the  name.  It  is  an  out-of-the-way  place ;  I  can  scarcely 
imagine  its  location,  as  I  was  brought  here  in  the  night. 
There  have  been  dreadful  things  done  here,  counter- 
feiting and  gambling.  This  is  the  place,  also,  where 
the  stolen  property  of  the  Murrell  gang  has  been  kept. 
Those  men  used  to  come  here  once,  but  I  have  forgot- 
ten their  names ;  though  I  heard  David  say  that  they 
are  not  known  by  the  same  names  they  answer  to  here ; 
that  some  of  them  are  men  in  business  in  different 
places,  and  that  they  only  come  here  to  get  their  share 
of  the  'profits,'  as  Moloch  calls  it." 

Fanny  entered  the  room  and  said :  "  I  cannot  make 
Nehemiah  wake  up ;  and  I  am  afraid  he  is  going  to  be 
very  sick.  He  says  he  caught  cold  coming  in  the  rain 
last  night." 

"  Cannot  I  go  and  see  him  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  It  won't  do  any  hurt,"  replied  Fanny,  "  if  nobody 
don't  tell  Moloch.  Nehemiah  is  real  clever,  and  kinder 
to  me  than  any  body  else  in  the  world;  but  he  does  n't 
talk  much  to  any  one.  He  makes  motions  with  his 
hands  ;  and  he  won't  tell  anything  to  get  me  whipped, 
if  he  can  Hfelp  it.  But  if  Moloch  comes  home  cross, 
he  '11  pound  him  till  he  tells  everything." 

"  And  you  will  pray,"  said  Emily  t^  Mariana,  as 
she  arose  to  go  to  her  own  room. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mariana ;  "  and  I  want  you  to  pray 
for  me,  and  everybody,  for  that  was  what  my  mother 
used  to  tell  me  to  do." 

"  Well,  that  is  right,"  said  Emily. 

"  But  I  cannot  pray  for  David  and  Moloch,"  said 
Mariana. 


EMILY   IN   PRISON.  389 

"  There  are  some  for  whom  we  are  not  commanded 
to  pray,"  said  Emily. 

"  There  is  certainly  hope  for  her,"  thought  Emily, 
as  Mariana  left  the  room;  "and  I  can  discover  traces 
of  that  which  has  once  been  beautiful  in  her  coun- 
tenance. Oh !  that  I  could  escape,  and  make  known 
to  the  world  what  I  have  witnessed  In  this  prison- 
house  ! " 

Fanny  now  returned,  and  informed  Emily  that 
Nehemiah  was  still  asleep  ;  and  that  she  would  like  to 
have  her  go  and  look  at  him.  Emily  went  through 
the  dark  passage,  and  emerged  into  a  room  about  the 
size  of  her  own.  There,  upon  the  floor,  with  simply 
some  straw  for  a  bed,  and  a  blanket  for  a  covering,  lay 
the  object  of  her  visit.  His  features  were  regular  and 
expressive,  despite  the  pallor  which  overspread  his  face. 
His  head  was  thrown  back,  and  his  hair  was  in  such  a 
condition  as  to  display,  what  Emily  thought,  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  foreheads  she  had  ever  beheld.  He 
had  lost  one  of  his  arms  by  some  unfortunate  circum- 
stance. His  apparel  was  of  the  meanest  and  coarsest 
material,  and  presented  a  sad  contrast  to  his  good-look- 
ing countenance.  His  sound  sleep  was  not  disturbed 
by  the  entrance  of  Emily  and  her  companion. 

"  I  could  trvR  that  man,"  thought  Emily,  "if  his  mind 
had  not  become  perverted  by  false  teachings."  And 
she  fancied  she  had  somewhere  seen  a  countenance  like 
his.  Motioning  Fanny  to  follow  her,  she  returned  to  her 
room. 

"  How  old  is  Nehemiah  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  He  says  he  has  forgotten,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  Has  he  always  been  here  ?  " 
33* 


390  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  No.  He  says  he  has  been  to  a  great  many  places ; 
but  I  can't  remember  their  names." 

Emily  still  endeavored  to  recollect  where  she  had 
seen  a  countenance  similar  to  his.  Fanny  was  not 
very  communicative,  and  in  a  short  time  retired.  Emily 
was  alone.  Her  mind,  which  had  thus  been  occupied 
with  the  events  of  the  day,  now  reverted  to  herself. 
Might  she  not  expect  that  she  would  be  called  to  act  a 
part,  of  which  the  bare  suggestion  made  her  shudder  ? 
The  time  for  the  return  of  Mr.  Livingsworth  had  nearly 
arrived,  according  to  the  statement  of  the  constable ; 
and  what  she  had  learned  from  Fanny  confirmed  that 
statement. 

"  Could  I  but  procure  the  assistance  of  Nehemiah," 
thought  the  captive  girl,  "  I  might  perhaps  write  to 
Frank."  And  she  resolved  upon  questioning  Fanny 
further. 

"  Where  do  you  sleep,  Fanny  ?  "  asked  Emily,  when 
her  supper  was  brought  in. 

"  I  sleep  on  the  straw  where  Nehemiah  is,"  replied 
the  slave  girl,  "  when  he  ain't  sick ;  but  I  '11  let  him 
have  it  to-night,  and  lie  on  the  floor  myself,  because  he 
is  so  good  to  me.  They  kept  him  shut  up  here  a  great 
while,  and  would  n't  let  him  go  anywhere  ;  and  then 
David  put  a  knife  to  his  breast,  and  made  him  swear 
something ;  and  now  they  send  him  out  to  see  what  is 
going  on.     He  says  they  make  him  a  spy." 

"Is  he  honest?" 

«  Oh,  yes." 

"  And  does  he  ever  tell  you  anything,  Fanny  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Fanny,  "  he  says  that,  if  it  was  n't  for 
me,  he  'd  ha'  run  away.  For  he  says  that  he  don't 
think  he  ought  to  regard  the  oaUi,  seeing  David  forced 


EMILY  IN   PKISON.  391 

him  to  take  it.  I  believe  he  is  studying  up  something. 
He  says  they  can't  hold  us  by  law,  for  we  was  n't  born 
slaves ;  and  all  that  is  wanting  is  to  find  somebody  that 
knows  it,  and  will  help  us." 

"  Does  he  treat  you  well  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  Yes,  real  well.  And  when  I  told  him  what  Moloch 
said  to  me,  he  told  me "     Here  Fanny  hesitated. 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  He  said  that  it  was  real  wicked ;  and  he  brought 
me  home  a  knife,  and  told  me  that,  if  Moloch  tried  to 
abuse  me  again,  I  must  kill  him." 

"  Where  is  your  knife  ?  " 

"  Under  a  board." 

"  Will  you  not  show  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  Some  time,"  said  Fanny ;  "  but  I  am  very  tired 
to-night,  and  it  is  under  the  straw  where  Nehemiah  is." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  bring  the  child,  and  lie  in 
here ;  and,  if  you  have  n't  thrown  out  the  tea  that 
Nehemiah  left  in  the  cup,  drink  it  yourself." 

"  Pennyroyal  is  real  good,"  replied  Fanny.  "  Minta 
used  to  take  it,  and  I  told  Nehemiah  to  get  some  for 
his  rheumatism." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Emily,  "  Nehemiah  left  nearly  half 
of  it.  I  saw  it  in  the  cup  myself,  and  I  want  you  to 
give  the  child  a  spoonful  or  two,  and  drink  the  rest 
yourself." 

Fanny  soon  returned  with  the  child.  She  also 
brought  an  old  coverlid,  and,  placing  it  upon  the  floor, 
laid  the  child  upon  it.  Then,  throwing  herself  down 
beside  the  little  one,  both  were  soon  in  a  sound  sleep. 

"  Now  is  my  time,"  thought  Emily ;  and,  taking  the 
light,  she  left  the  room  noiselessly,  threaded  the  dark 
passage,  and  was  soon  standing  beside  Nehemiah. 


392  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

He  was  still  sleeping.  She  gently  touched  his  arm, 
and  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Nehemiah." 

He  awoke,  recognized  Emily,  and  rose  to  a  sitting 
posture ;  then  commenced  making  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet  with  his  ringers. 

Emily  had  learned  the  deaf  and  dumb  alphabet,  and 
she  soon  made  out  the  words,  "  One  week."  The  next 
words  were,  "  There  may  be  help  before  then." 

She  now  asked  Nehemiah  many  questions  with  her 
fingers,  but  he  only  replied  by  a  shake  of  the  head. 
He  arose,  however,  went  to  his  pack  in  another  part  of 
the  room,  and  took  from  it  what  Emily  thought  was  a 
clean  piece  of  paper.  He  held  the  paper  close  to  the 
candle  for  some  seconds,  and  then  motioned  Emily  to 
look  upon  it.  Writing  now  became  visible,  and  she 
read: 

"  Come  to  the  city  immediately,  for  I  have  business 
for  you.  They  are  on  our  track.  If  I  can,  I  shall  des- 
troy Willis.  But,  if  worst  comes  to  worst,  we  must 
fire  the  building,  and  make  our  escape.  David." 

Emily  had  no  doubt  but  this  had  been  sent  by  David 
to  Moloch.  Nehemiah  then  put  his  hand  upon  his 
heart ;  and  Emily  considered  the  gesture  as  a  request 
that  she  would  not  betray  him,  so  she  imitated  it. 

lie  seemed  satisfied,  and  assumed  a^^tening  atti- 
tude.    At  length,  he  lay  down  again  upon  the  straw. 

'•  Oh,  how  dreadful,"  thought  Emily,  returning  to  her 
own  room,  "  to  be  thus  situated !  " 

Long  was  it  before  Emily  could  sleep ;  but,  at  length, 
commending  herself  to  God,  she  sank  into  a  quiet 
slumber. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE    DISCOVERY    AND    THE    ALARM. 

Frank,  on  entering  his  father's  house,  hurried  to  the 
room  of  his  father.  He  had  no  sooner  entered,  than 
his  mother  said,  "  Your  father  has  had  another  paralytic 
shock."  Frank  used  former  remedies,  but  all  to  no 
purpose. 

Dr.  Willis  had  not  yet  returned.  But  in  less  than 
an  hour,  Frank  had  obtained  another  physician,  who 
immediately  pronounced  Mr.  Le  Rux  past  all  hope. 
He  soon  after  died,  and  the  doctor  left. 

Mrs.  Le  Itux  was  greatly  excited. 

"  Emily !  Emily !  "  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux  ;  "  where  is 
Emily  ?  Why  does  she  not  come  to  me  ?  O  dear, 
Odear!" 

In  the  confusion  which  had  attended  the  fatal  illness 
of  his  father,  Frank  had  scarcely  thought  of  Emily. 

"  Where  is  my  cousin  ? "  asked  Frank,  anxiously 
casting  his  eves  around. 

"  She  ainT  nowhar,"  said  Nancy ;  "  for  I  've  been 
'way  down  to  de  garden,  an'  de  quarters,  an'  she  ain't 
nowhar." 

"  Has  she  not  returned  to  the  house?  " 

"  Oh  no,  Mas'r  Frank ;  an'  de  man  say  dat  he'd  hab 
to  take  'er  for  de  money." 

"  What  man  ?  what  money  ? "  cried  Frank  hur- 
riedly. 

(393) 


394  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

Here  Nancy  related  the  scene  between  Mr.  Le  Rux 
and  the  Jew. 

Frank  was  horrified.  Now  flashed  upon  him  the 
warnings  of  Dr.  Willis.  "  Oh !  why  did  I  leave  her  ? 
Why  did  I  ever  leave  the  house  wi  h  her  ?  "  thought 
he,  as  he  hurried  to  the  spot  where  he  parted  from  her. 
On  reaching  it,  he  called  aloud  her  name.  Several  of 
the  negroes  were  soon  on  the  spot,  to  know  "  what  was 
the  matter  wid  Mas'r  Frank,  an'  what  was  become  of 
Miss  Em'ly." 

"  She  is  gone ! "  said  Frank  —  "carried  off  by  some- 
body ;  and  you  must  find  her." 

"  Oh,  marcy  !  Yes,  mas'r,"  said  Dick,  "  we  find  'er  in 
a  minit,  if  mas'r  jest  tell  us  whar !  " 

"Go  everywhere,"  said  Frank,  "  and  look  for  her, 
while  I  examine  the  house." 

"  Yes,  mas'r,  we  '11  go  eberywhar.  We  '11  find  'er." 
They  started  in  different  directions,  hallooing  and 
shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices ;  but  without  any 
definite  purpose. 

Frank  returned  to  the  house,  and  commenced  an 
active  and  thorough  search.  On  entering  the  room 
which  had  been  appropriated  to  Mr.  Battell,  he  found 
him  in  a  sound  sleep.  Frank  was  not  long  in  inform- 
ing his  visitor  of  the  events  of  the  nig^,  and  urging 
the  need  of  alarming  the  country,  and  of  commencing  a 
search  immediately,  and,  on  the  morrow,  issuing  hand- 
bills. 

Mr.  Battell  asked  that  Nancy  be  summoned  to  the 
sitting-room,  to  relate  the  particulars  of  the  kidnapper's 
appearance,  conversation,  &c. 

This  was  soon  done. 

"  You  will  perceive,"  said  Mr.  Battell  to  Frank,  who 


DISCOVERY   AND   ALARM.  395 

was  still  under  great  excitement,  "  that  this  is  a  pre- 
meditated thing,  and  it  requires  much  judgment  and 
caution  on  our  part.  This  is  the  day  for  Dr.  Willis  to 
return,  and  he  will  probably  be  at  his  residence.  I 
should  rely  much  upon  his  advice  and  assistance  in  this 
affair." 

"  Have  you  any  idea,"  said  Frank,  "  who  the  villain 
was  that  entered  the  house  ?  or  what  was  his  purpose  ?  " 

"  It  was  evidently  Jew  David,"  replied  Mr.  Battell ; 
"  and  he  has  seized  Emily  on  some  pretext  of  holding 
her  as  property.  But,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Dr.  Wil- 
lis can  thwart  him  in  his  purpose.  Permit  me  to  go 
to  the  city,  while  you  remain,  and  perform  such  duties 
as  are  incumbent  upon  you  here." 

A  new  light  had  come  to  Frank's  mind.  His  heart 
was  filled  with  mingled  emotions  of  doubt,  fear,  dread, 
shame,  horror,  and  pity. 

"  I  shall  go  immediately  to  the  Jew's  quarters,"  said 
Mr.  Battell,  as  he  left  the  house. 

The  death  of  Mr.  Le  Rux,  and  the  astonishment 
that  Emily  should  be  kidnapped  as  a  slave,  rendered 
Mrs.  Le  Rux  almost  helpless ;  and  a  burden  of  care, 
almost  insupportable,  rested  on  Frank.  While  arrang- 
ing for  the  funeral,  his  mind  constantly  reverted  to  Em- 
ily. "  O  God  of  mercy !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  protect  my 
poor  lost  cousin  ! " 

The  time  for  the  funeral  of  William   Le  Rux  was 

appointed,    and    the  venerable    Bishop  M was 

requested  to  preach  on  the  solemn  occasion.  He  com- 
menced his  Christian  eulogium  with  the  text,  "  Cast 
thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  it  will  return  after  many 
days."  He  took  occasion  to  portray  the  many  virtues 
of  the  deceased  brother;    the  liberality  of   his  hand. 


396  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

The  Bible  Society,  Tract  Society,  and  the  Church 
were  all  indebted  to  his  fostering  liberality.  His  self- 
denying  spirit  and  holy  life  were  urged  as  an  example 
for  others  to  imitate.  And  he  assured  his  hearers  that, 
now  his  labors  of  love  were  ended  on  earth,  his  tri- 
umphant spirit  was  in  heaven,  reaping  a  rich  reward. 
He  was  now  rejoicing  in  his  Heavenly  Master's  plaudit : 
"  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant ;  enter  thou  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  There  sat  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  drink- 
ing in  the  impassioned  words  of  the  bishop,  and  sooth- 
ing her  heart  with  his  proffered  consolations. 

Frank  sat  and  heard  these  declarations  over  the  coffin 
of  his  father,  with  mingled  emotions  of  shame  and 
horror  —  of  shame  for  untruths  spoken,  of  horror  on 
thinking  of  the  truths  not  spoken.  The  case  of  Lucy, 
a  beautiful  mulatto,  his  own  half-sister,  was  fresh  in  his 
memory.  She  was  given  by  his  father  to  the  Bible 
Society,  and  forced  to  a  life  of  prostitution.  A  shud- 
der passed  over  him,  as  all  the  horrid  scenes  which  he 
had  witnessed  at  his  father's  rushed  upon  his  mind, 
and  he  found  relief  in  a  flood  of  tears.  When  the 
bishop  was  repeating  the  Saviour's  plaudit,  "  Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant,"  Frank,  in  spirit, 
heard  Christ  saying :  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into  everlast- 
ing fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels :  inas- 
much as  ye  did  it  not  to  the  least  of  one  of  these,  ye 
did  it  not  to  me."  And  when  he  thought  of  the  mental 
and  moral  darkness  of  such  bishops  and  ministers,  he 
cried,  "  O  God!  how  long  ere  thou  wilt  dispel  these 
fatal  delusions  from  the  minds  of  men  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

DEATH  OF  EDWARD  LE  RUX  AT  THE  NORTH. 

Edward  Le  Clare  sought  his  father's  chamber, 
harassed  by  fearful  forebodings  of  the  future,  and  by- 
doubts  as  to  what  course  to  take  in  regard  to  the  letter. 

"  He  is  becoming  more  calm,"  replied  the  doctor,  to 
Edward's  inquiries ;  "  but  I  have  but  little  hope  of 
his  recovery." 

Edward  was  unable  to  conceal  his  emotions,  as  he 
saw  the  doctor's  eyes  riveted  upon  him.  His  agitation 
continued  to  increase,  and  he  arose  and  walked  the 
room  hurriedly.  "  I  will  consult  the  doctor,"  thought 
he,  "  in  regard  to  the  letter.  It  will  doubtless  be  more 
safe  for  me  to  do  so ;  and  it  may  be  that  it  will  serve  to 
lighten  the  load  upon  my  heart." 

Mr.  Le  Rux  at  length  slept,  and  Edward  handed  Dr. 
Freeman  the  letter. 

"  I  must,  also,"  thought  Edward,  "  communicate  to 
him  some  part  of  what  my  father  has  made  known  to 
me,  respecting  my  mother  and  sister,  as  well  as  con- 
cerning my  birthright,  for  now  I  can  hide  nothing." 
He  almost  regretted  having  given  the  doctor  the  letter, 
as  he  thought  of  disclosing  the  guilt  of  his  father. 

Dr.  Freeman  made  no  remarks,  but  prevailed  upon 
Edward  to  retire  to  rest.     But  how  was  he  to  sleep  ? 

"  I  must  visit  my  mother's  sanctuary,"  thought  he, 
"  and  strive  to  calm  the  tumult  in  my  breast." 

34  (397) 


398  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Here,  in  this  sacred  spot,  thought  overwhelmed  him. 
At  one  moment,  he  thought  of  Edith,  and  he  fancied 
he  saw  her  in  the  grasp  of  the  hideous  monster,  slavery ; 
and  that  there  were  no  wrongs  nor  indignities  but 
what  she  was  subjected  to.  He  thought  of  his  dying 
father,  of  his  guilt ;  and  yet  was  he  not  the  victim  of 
circumstance  ? — the  victim  of  that  system,  so  hideous 
that  it  has  a  thousand  hydra-heads  to  rear  against 
the  nation's  virtue  ?  —  the  victim  of  that  viper  in  the 
nation's  bosom,  so  madly  nourished  and  cherished  by 
her  sons  and  daughters,  that,  although  they  feel  its 
poison  torturing  their  very  vitals,  they  yet  cling  to  it 
with  a  death-grasp. 

"  Would,"  thought  he,  "  that  every  son  and  daughter 
of  the  slaveholders  at  the  South  could  see  my  father  in 
his  agony  —  could  hear  his  voice  as  he  speaks  of  his 
own  doom,  and  portrays  the  guilt,  the  sin,  the  conse- 
quences of  the  course  they  are  pursuing  —  would  that 
they  could  feel  the  agony  of  this  heart,  and  hear  its 
throbbings  but  for  one  hour.  O  God,  would  that  they 
could  hear,  see,  and  feel  all  these ;  then,  surely,  they 
would  be  warned  from  their  infamous  course.  O  God ! 
help  me  to  spend  my  life  in  holding  up  before  the  rising 
generation  the  guilt,  the  ruin,  the  punishment,  which  is 
coming  upon  them ;  and  enable  me  to  warn  them  to 
thrust  aside  the  unholy  thing.  /  warn  them  ?  "  thought 
Edward,  as  his  head  dropped  upon  his  hand.  "  Am  I 
not  a  slave,  to  be  bought  and  sold,  like  the  brutes, — 
subject,  like  them,  to  the  lash  ?  " 

He  paused.  A  cold  perspiration  stood  upon  his 
brow  ;  agony  was  in  every  feature,  and  his  limbs 
seemed  palsied.  Placing  his  hand  upon  his  throbbing 
heart,  he  said:  "  Mother!  O  mother!  it  is  not  for  Ihee 


EDWARD  LE  RUX's  FATE.  399 

I  mourn,  but  for  him ;  it  is  not  for  myself  I  weep,  for  I 
fear  neither  the  lash  nor  chain — my  spirit  is  free.  It 
is  for  Edith  I  despair ;  for  the  miserable  slave-fathers, 
the  slave-mothers,  husbands,  wives,  brothers,  and  sis- 
ters, who  have  hearts  and  souls  which  God  designed 
should,  like  mine,  be  free  ;  and  to  whom  liberty,  were 
they  placed  in  a  similar  position,  would  be  as  dear  as  it 
is  to  me.  It  is  not  for-  myself  I  tremble,  but  it  is  for 
this  guilty  land;  for  Edith,  and  for  thousands  like  her. 
But  I  must  not  linger  here.     I  must  fly  to  her  rescue." 

His  mind  again  reverted  to  the  letter.  "  Frank  Le 
Rux,"  thought  he,  "  is  my  cousin,  and  Edith  is  with 
him  ;  surely  he  can  protect  her.  I  will  write  to  him ; 
but  there  may  be  danger  in  so  doing.  My  father  has 
told  me  of  the  affairs  of  my  uncle." 

Edward  now  resolved  that  he  would  not  write.  He 
thought  of  the  money  demanded  in  the  letter.  How 
was  he  to  raise  money,  sufficient  even  to  travel  ?  "  No! 
there  is  no  hope,"  said  he. 

Dropping  upon  his  knees,  he  again  appealed  to  his 
Father  in  heaven,  saying :  "  Thou  hast  interfered,  O 
Lord,  and  revealed  to  me  what  I  so  much  desired  to 
know;  and,  although  the  cup  which  I  have  had  to 
drink  has  been  a  bitter  one,  still  thou  art  yet  able  to 
save." 

Edward  arose  with  his  spirit  refreshed.  He  now 
thought  of  the  jewels,  and  what  his  mother  had  said 
concerning  them.  "  She  would  certainly  have  permitted 
me  to  use  them  in  such  a  cause,"  he  concluded. 

Almost  exhausted  by  the  trying  ordeal  through  which 
he  had  passed,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed  and 
slept.  He  awoke  at  an  early  hour,  and,  as  the  ideas 
which   had    occupied    his    mind   the    previous    night 


400  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

crowded  upon  him,  he  said :  "  This  is  the  place  where 
I  always  find  peace  for  my  troubled  spirit.  It  was  here, 
with  my  mother,  that  God  first  spoke  peace  to  my 
soul." 

Edward,  as  he  entered  his  father's  room,  in  the 
morning,  wore  a  sadness  on  his  face  that  excited  Dr. 
Freeman's  sympathy. 

"  Is  my  father  any  better  ?  "  asked  Edward. 

"  I  cannot  decide,"  replied  the  doctor ;  "  but  he  is 
now  quiet,  and  I  must  return  home.  Will  you  not 
walk  with  me  a  short  distance,  while  Ella  fills  your 
place  ?  " 

They  were  soon  in  conversation,  and  Edward  made 
known  to  him  the  things  related  by  his  father,  in  as 
concise  a  manner  as  possible. 

Dr.  Freeman  was  much  moved.  "  This  is  what  your 
mother  never  hinted  to  me.  It  was  only  the  suspicion, 
that  your  father  had  deserted  her,  that  she  ever  spoke 
of.  From  what  I  have  learned  of  the  iniquitous 
system  of  slavery,  and  the  many  evils  which  it  en- 
tails, and  knowing  her  sensitiveness  upon  it,  and  her 
anxiety  and  excitement  while  the  Fugitive  Bill  was 
before  Congress,  I  was  led  to  fear  that  there  was 
something  wrong  on  that  point.  Every  impartial  judge 
would  admit  that  there  was  no  African  blood  either 
in  you  or  your  mother.  I  knew  that  something  was 
breaking  her  heart,  and  that  she  desired,  most  of  all 
things,  to  conceal  it  from  you.  I  took  up  the  paper 
which  she  had  placed  upon  the  table,  and  saw,  at  one 
glance,  that  it  was  the  news  of  the  passage  of  the 
Fugitive  Bill  that  caused  her  sudden  death." 

"  And  made  the  men  of  the  North  murderers !  "  said 
Edward. 


EDWARD   LE   RUX'S    FATE.  401 

They  had  lingered  in  their  walk.  They  were  now 
standing  opposite  a  large  elm,  by  which  ran  a  beautiful 
stream.  Here,  under  this  tree,  upon  two  large  stones, 
had  Mrs.  Le  Clare  often  sat  with  Edward,  in  his  boy- 
hood days,  after  listening  to  the  Sunday  sermons  of 
Mr.  Brownson.  In  order  to  render  this  retired  spot 
even  more  beautiful,  Mrs.  Le  Rux  had  planted  a  wild 
rose-bush,  which  was  now  large  and  thrifty. 

"  Let  us  be  seated  here,"  said  Dr.  Freeman.  "  As 
to  this  letter,  which  you  have  received  so  mysteriously, 
there  may  be  treachery  in  the  heart  of  the  writer; 
or,  on  the  contrary,  it  may  be,  as  he  has  said,  that 
he  desires  to  do  you  good.  It  behoves  you  to  use 
much  precaution  in  all  your  movements.  In  regard  to 
the  six  thousand  dollars,  if  there  be  documents,  or  any- 
thing else,  to  prove  the  illegality  of  holding  your 
mother's  children  in  bondage,  in  the  possession  of  the 
writer,  or  any  one  else,  it  needs  but  a  legal  process  to 
bring  the  facts  to  light.  But  the  difficulty  will  be  in 
obtaining  justice  through  a  legal  decision  at  the  South. 
And,  if  it  were  possible  to  have  such  an  examination 
at  the  North,  even  in  Massachusetts,  upon  the  very 
summit  of  Bunker  Hill,  there  would  be  no  hope  under 
the  Fugitive  Act.  Our  country  is  now  sold  to  slavery. 
Our  commissioners,  our  judges  —  I  cannot  say  jurors, 
for  whoever  is  claimed  as  a  slave  has  no  right  to  a  trial 
by  jury  —  have  lost  their  manhood !  Men  of  the  North 
seem  no  longer  created  in  the  image  of  their  God! 
They  have  sold  themselves  to  the  Southern  oligarchy ; 
they  have  bartered  away  their  liberty,  and  the  nation's 
honor,  for  fear  that  the  South  would  dissolve  the 
'  glorious  Union.'  Judas  betrayed  his  master  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver;  but  our  selfish  demagogues  have 
34* 


402  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

betrayed  freedom  for  the  privilege  of  holding  some 
petty  office  under  the  slave  power.  The  South  gives 
the  presidency  to  no  one  who  will  not  be  a  traitor  to 
freedom." 

Here  the  doctor  drew  from  his  pocket  a  newspaper, 
and  read  aloud  an  extract  from  the  letter  of  Daniel 
Webster  to  the  Mayor  of  Boston,  expressing  the  Pres- 
ident's thanks  to  the  people  of  Boston,  and  his  confi- 
dence in  them,  that  they  would  in  future  sustain  the 
Fugitive  Act.  "  This  letter,"  said  the  doctor,  "  was 
written  after  the  President  received  the  facts  in  regard 
to  the  escape  of  Shadrach,  and  also  the  resolutions 
passed  thereupon.  Yes,  it  has  come  to  this ;  and  it 
needs  but  a  bold  lie  from  a  Southern  kidnapper,  and 
you,  Edward,  will  be  delivered  over  by  the  commis- 
sioner to  the  rice  swamps  of  Alabama,  and  Edith  to 
the  brutal  lusts  of  those  long  steeped  in  crime !  " 

"  O  my  God !  "  said  Edward,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
"  I  must  hasten.  I  can  endure  slavery —  I  can  go  to  the 
rice  swamps,  to  whips,  to  chains,  and  to  death !  But 
Edith  must  be  protected !  "  The  perspiration  stood  in 
large  drops  upon  his  white  brow. 

"  Hear  me,"  said  the  doctor.  "  You  have  spoken  of 
going  to  France ;  that  country,  or  England,  is  all  the 
refuge  you  can  hope  for  now." 

u  And  have  I  then  no  country  ?  "  exclaimed  Edward, 
in  the  deepest  mental  anguish.  "  Am  I  to  be  an  out- 
cast from  America?  Hear  me,  then,  O  ye  heavens!  — 
bear  witness,  ye  murmuring  streams,  ye  hills,  ye  val- 
leys, where  I  have  dwelt  In  happiness  and  hope!  —  hear 
me,  ye  hosts  of  heaven! — bear  witness,  thou  Inspirer 
of  eternal  truth,  thou  Maker  and  Upholder  of  all  things, 
that  America  has  sealed  her  doom !     This  guilty  nation 


EDWARD    LE    RUX'S    FATE.  403 

must  fall!  God  will  utterly  forsake  the  American 
Union  in  its  guilt !  He  has  heard  the  wail  of  millions, 
who  have  gone  on  before  me,  as  witness  to  the  na- 
tion's hypocrisy  and  oppression.  I  feel  an  inspiration 
in  my  soul !  How  dare  ye,  O  ye  freemen  of  America, 
crucify  the  goddess  of  liberty  ?  How  dare  ye  follow 
in  the  footsteps  of  the  ancient  despotisms,  which,  for- 
getting their  God,  were  utterly  overthrown^  Did  not 
God  destroy  them?  Did  he  not  sweep  them  away 
with  the  besom  of  destruction  ?  Canst  thou,  boasted 
land  of  exact  justice,  equal  rights,  and  freedom  to  all, 
sustain  thy  crimes  against  a  holy  and  just  God,  when 
he  pronounces  thy  doom  ? 

"  I  shall  go,"  cried  Edward  ;  "  and,  though  my  body 
rest  in  the  rice  swamps  of  Alabama,  or  perchance  in 
some  foreign  land,  remember,  thou  worshippers  of  the 
demon  slavery,  that  Edward  Le  Clare  has  a  spirit  un- 
polluted by  crime  ;  and  that,  though  thou  hast  power  to 
enslave  him  in  this  world,  in  eternity  he  will  possess 
greater  privileges  than  thou ! " 

Edward  ceased  speaking,  and  Dr.  Freeman  felt 
for  him  a  sympathy  commensurate  with  the  severe 
trials  he  was  called  upon  to  bear.  The  doctor  was 
a  poor  man ;  but  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  ten-dollar 
gold  piece.  "Accept  this,"  said  he  to  Edward;  "it  is 
all  I  have  to  offer  now." 

"  No,"  said  Edward,  "  I  can  take  nothing  from  one 
whom  I  have  seen  buffeting  with  this  heartless  world, 
to  earn  a  competence  for  the  support  of  his  wife  and 
children,  and  his  aged  and  helpless  parents.  I  have 
some  jewelry  that  was  my  mother's,  which  she  bade 
me  sell,  if  need  be.  But  my  father !  —  can  I  leave 
him?" 


404  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  Ella  will  remain  with  Mrs.  Wise,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor, "  and,  with  the  assistance  of  Richard,  your  father 
will  doubtless  receive  the  best  attention.  Mr.  Erskine 
will  also  render  any  aid  in  his  power." 

Edward  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  while  his  coun- 
tenance betrayed  increased  emotion.  "  Ella,"  he  said 
at  length,  "  has  acted  towards  me  as  a  fond  sister ;  but  I 
confess  there  has  been  a  deeper  feeling  on  my  part.  I 
thank  God  that  she  is  saved !  I  fear  that  this  revelation 
will  cause  her  some  pain,  for  I  believe  that  she  is  not 
wholly  indifferent  to  me.  But  think  what  she  has 
escaped !  I  cannot  see  her,  but  must  leave  it  with  you 
to  tell  her  the  sad  tale.  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  do 
it.  Tell  her  to  forget  me  —  to  put  her  trust  in  God  — 
to  think  of  my  mother's  trials,  and  she  will  shudder  at 
the  bare  imagination  of  what  she  has  escaped." 

Edward  returned  to  the  house.  He  met  Ella  at  the 
door  of  his  father's  room.  He  tried  to  appear  like  him- 
self, but  the  effort  was  futile.  He  found  his  father 
sleeping,  and  seemingly  less  feverish  than  when  he  left 
him.  He  looked  upon  his  father's  manly  brow,  and 
face.  "  He  must  once  have  been  handsome,"  thought 
Edward ;  "  yet  methinks  he  is  prematurely  old.  I  must 
leave  him ;  but,  if  I  meet  him  no  more  in  this  world, 
God  grant  that  my  mother's  prayers  may  be  answered, 
and  that  we  may  be  united  in  heaven !  I  will  awake 
hiin  now,"  resolved  Edward,  placing  his  hand  upon  the 
invalid's  forehead. 

Mr.  Le  Rux  awoke,    opened  his  eyes,  and  lookec 
calmly  at  Edward.     "  You  were  right,  my  son,"  saic 
he.      "  The  Lord  has   forgiven    me.     It  was   slavei 
that  forced  me  to  sin.     I   have   repented,  and   founc 
mercy."     He  then  closed  his  eyes. 


EDWARD    LE    RUX'S    FATE.  405 

"  Bless  the  Lord,"  said  Edward,  "  for  his  great  good- 
ness." 

The  lips  of  Mr.  Le  Rux  moved ;  while  his  counten- 
ance was  indicative  of  much  peace.  At  length  he  pro- 
nounced the  name,  "  Emily,"  with  much  emphasis, 
and  again  slept.  When  it  was  time  for  his  medicine, 
Edward  tried  in  vain  to  awaken  him. 

"  It  must  be  the  sleep  of  death ! "  thought  Edward, 
as  he  hurriedly  called  Mrs.  Wise,  and  dispatched 
Richard  for  the  doctor. 

Dr.  Freeman  tried  every  means  to  arouse  the  invalid. 
At  length  he  revived,  looked  at  the  doctor,  and  from 
him  to  Edward,  and  said,  "  Edward,  Edith,  farewell ! " 
Then  he  gasped,  "Emily,  I  come!  I  come!"  sank 
away,  and  Mr.  Le  Rux  slept  the  sleep  of  death. 

As  Edward  stood  by  the  deathbed  of  his  father,  he 
lifted  his  heart  to  God,  and  felt  his  spirit  strengthened. 
He  wept  not,  but.  was  calm  and  self-possessed.  "  Let 
my  father  be  buried  as  my  mother  was,"  said  the 
orphan  youth  to  Dr.  Freeman.  "  I  cannot  remain  here 
longer  ;  something  bids  me  hasten.  Did  not  my  father 
bid  me  do  so,  when  he  pronounced  the  name  of 
'  Edith  ?  '  Here  is  the  key  of  my  mother's  room  ;  you 
will  find  all  things  belonging  to  her  there.  If  I  do 
not  return,  make  use  of  them  in  the  cause  of  freedom." 
Edward  stood  a  few  moments  alone  by  the  couch  of 
death  ;  then,  descending  the  stairs,  he  bade  Mrs. 
Wise,  and  Richard  "  good-by." 

"  Is  your  business  so  important  that  you  must  leave 
us  now  ?  "  asked  Ella. 

"  It  is  of  more  importance  than  my  poor  life,"  was 
the  reply.  Edward  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak 
farther.     lie  turned  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

Mariana's   disclosures  at    the   prison-house. — pre- 
parations  FOR  ESCAPE. 

"  Can  I  see  Mariana  again  to-day  ? "  asked  Emily, 
as  Fanny  brought  in  her  breakfast. 

"  It  was  Mbloch,"  replied  the  latter,  "  who  left  her 
door  unlocked ;  he  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  go.  Usually, 
when  he  goes  off,  he  puts  bread  and  water  in  her  room, 
and  locks  her  in ;  and  then  takes  the  key  with  him. 
And  now  he 's  got  the  key,  but  he  forgot  to  lock  the 
door.     He  must  have  felt  in  a  big  hurry,  I  think." 

"  Was  that  what  Mariana  meant  yesterday,  when 
she  said  that  I  was  an  angel  —  that  the  Lord  had  sent 
me  to  open  her  prison-doors  ?  "  inquired  Emily. 

"  I  guess  it  was,"  replied  Fanny;  "but  I  did  n't  think 
of  it  then." 

"  Well,  she  is  right :  it  is  the  Lord's  doings." 

"  But  you  ain't  an  angel,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  looked 
at  Emily ;  "  for  Minta  used  to  tell  me  they  always  had 
wings." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  was  an  angel,"  was  Emily's 
answer ;  "  but  I  am  sure  now  that  the  Lord  is  using 
me  to  bring  about  some  good.  How  is  Nehemiah  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  He  ain't  any  better,  and  he  can't  get  up,  because 
his  knee  is  so  bad.  And  he  can't  do  anything  with 
Mariana,  any  way.     He  never  will  pound  her  a  bit,  if 

(40C) 


DISCLOSURES   BY  MARIANA.  407 

Moloch  does  whip  him,  because  he  says  it  ain't  right. 
But  my  head  aches,"  continued  Fanny ;  "  and  I  've  got 
to  wash  all  the  clothes ;  and  the  child  is  dreadful  cross. 
Oh,  I  wish  I  could  go  back  to  Ohio." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  Emily,  impressively.  "  I  have 
strong  hopes  that  we  shall  escape  from  this  place,  since 
you  told  me  of  the  door  that  Moloch  forgot.  You 
know  that  strange  things  happen  sometimes.  The 
Lord  will  punish  these  wicked  people,  sooner  or  later ; 
and  perhaps  the  time  has  come  now.  If  I  ever  escape," 
continued  Emily,  "  and  you  don't  go  too,  I  will  com- 
plain to  the  authorities,  and  you  shall  be  released,  be- 
cause you  were  kidnapped ;  and  then  you  can  proclaim 
the  wicked  things  you  have  seen  done  here,  and  David 
and  Moloch  will  be  punished." 

"  I  've  heard  David  say,  that  if  anybody  should 
attempt  to  seize  him  here,  they  would  find  that  they 
had  got  guns !  And  he  said  there  would  be  a  great 
many  men  here  in  a  little  while,  to  help  him ;  for  they 
were  his  partners.  He  said  he  was  afraid,  one  while, 
of  defeat  in  respect  to  Texas.  But  now  he  says  there 
ain't  a  bit  of  danger,  for  the  folks  up  North  keep 
making  laws  to  help  them  kidnap  ;  and  that  the  South 
can  now  force  them  to  do  anything  they  choose." 

"  Did  he  tell  this  to  you  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  Oh  no ;  I  heard  him  talking  to  Moloch,  when  they 
thought  I  was'  fast  asleep.  David  said  he  was 
sorry  he  was  so  old  ;  and  that,  if  he  was  as  young  as 
Moloch,  he  'd  live  to  see  slavery  all  over  the  country 
up  North,  and  then  they  would  have  a  bigger  company, 
and  kidnap  a  great  many  more." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  go  and  bring  the  child  to  me, 
and  T  will  take  care  of  her  in  your  place." 


408  THE    CURSE    ENTATLED. 

Fanny  soon  brought  in  the  child,  evidently  glad  to 
be  relieved.  But  the  child  was  very  fretful,  and  soon 
commenced  crying. 

"  It  is  not  my  child,"  said  Mariana,  suddenly  entering 
the  room ;  "  but  I  thought  you  would  let  me  look  at 
her.  May  be  she  has  got  a  mother,"  said  Mariana, 
mournfully.  "  But  she  will  never  find  her  mother,  now 
she  has  come  here ;  and  by-and-by  they  will  sell  her." 

"  Did  you  bring  a  child  here?  "  inquired  Emily. 

"  Yes." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  about  it? " 

"  Yes,  willingly,  if  you  desire." 

"  I  would  be  very  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  My  father  lived  in  Scotland,"  said  Mariana,  "  and 
he  was  rich.  And,  when  I  married  William,  he  gave 
me  a  heap  of  money.  William  wanted  to  come  to 
America;  and,  when  my  father  died,  I  was  willing  to 
come  with  him.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  have  been 
in  America,  but  we  had  been  married  five  years  when 
we  came.  We  arrived  at  New  Orleans,  and  were  pre- 
paring to  commence  business,  when  we  were  advised 
to  go  to  Texas,  in  company  with  several  others.  Wil- 
liam was  a  physician,  and  they  wanted  him  to  follow 
his  profession,  and  let  them  use  his  money  to  speculate 
with.  He  lent  them  about  five  thousand  dollars  at  the 
start.  Sometimes  twenty  men  would  come  to  the 
house  at  a  time ;  and  I  disliked  their  appearance  ver 
much,  and  urged  William  to  collect  his  money,  an< 
leave  the  place. 

"  In  less  than  one  year,  I  had  twins  born.  We  had 
previously  buried  one  child  in  Scotland.  We  were  in 
an  out-of-the-way  place,  and  William  did  not  have 
much  practice,  neither  did  he  get  any  profits  from   I  lie 


DISCLOSUEES   BY   MARIANA. 


409 


company  ;  and,  at  last,  he  told  them  he  must  have  his 
money.  They  were  very  angry,  and  swore  at  him. 
After  this,  they  used  to  come  to  our  house  and  gamble, 
and  coax  him  to  do  so ;  but  he  would  n't.  One  day  there 
came  a  man,  whom  we  had  not  seen  before.  He  had  a 
long  talk  with  William,  telling  him  that  the  company 
had  met  with  great  losses,  and  that,  in  order  to  recover 
what  he  had  already  invested,  my  husband  must  let 
them  have  ten  thousand  dollars  more,  so  that  they 
could  recover  themselves.  This  William  would  not  do. 
The  twins  were  then  three  years  old.  In  a  few  days,  I 
had  another  child  born. 

"  It  was  some  time  after  this,  that  about  twenty 
armed  men  came  to  the  house  one  night,  and  de- 
manded of  William  that  he  should  put  in  all  his  money. 
He  would  not  comply,  but  demanded  of  them  his  five 
thousand  dollars  already  lent.  Two  of  the  men 
sprang  upon  him,  and  bound  him  hand  and  foot.  They 
then  demanded  his  money.  He.  still  refused  to  give  it 
up.  They  fastened  a  rope  to  his  neck,  dragged  him 
out  of  doors,  and  swore  horrible  oaths  that  they  would 
hang  him,  unless  he  yielded. 

"  At  this  instant,  I  said :  '  Do  not  kill  him  !  Save 
William,  and  you  shall  have  our  money.' 

" '  Now  we  are  lost,'  said  William  to  me. 

"  At  this  instant,  the  villains  strung  him  up ;  and,  as 
they  did  so,  I  fainted.  When  I  revived,  and  lifted  my 
eyes  to  the  tree,  William  was  dangling  in  the  air ! 

"  The  robbers  then  bade  me  get  the  money  quickly, 
or  I  should  share  a  like  fate.  I  hesitated ;  for  I  felt  I 
could  not  live  without  William.  But  I  looked  then  at 
my  dear  children,  and,  taking  the  babe  in  my  arms,  I 
bade  one  of  the  men   follow  me.     I  went  to  the  spot 


410  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

where  William  had  hid  his  money.  There  was  a 
large  stone  above  it;  this  I  bade  him  remove,  and  dig. 
He  soon  reached  the  treasure  —  about  twenty  thousand 
dollars  in  gold. 

"  Now  they  had  got  the  money,  some  of  the  men 
started  off  with  my  twins ;  when  one  of  the  robbers 
who  had  the  money  put  a  knife  to  my  breast,  and 
bade  me  be  silent.  Another  man  now  came  forward, 
and  said  that  he  would  save  my  life,  and  suffer  me  to 
keep  the  babe,  if  I  would  be  his  wife.  I  refused. 
They  then  seized  the  child,  to  tear  it  from  me ;  when  I 
said, l  Yes,  yes ;  leave  me  the  babe,  and  I  will  comply.' 
Another  of  the  gang  now  said :  '  I  pronounce  you  man 
and  wife.  Whom  God  hath  joined  together,  let  not 
man  put  asunder.'  I  cast  my  eyes  toward  the  tree, 
where  hung  William's  corpse,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
he  was  looking  at  me.  I  uttered  a  shriek,  and  sank 
upon  the  ground. 

"  When  I  revived,  there  were  but  two  men  present, 
David  and  Moloch.  They  informed  me  that  I  was  the 
lawful  wife  of  Moloch,  and  I  must  take  an  oath,  which 
David  read  to  me.  It  was  that  I  should  never  seem  to 
recognize  the  face  of  any  one  whom  I  had  seen  at  the 
house,  while  residing  in  that  place,  let  me  meet  them 
when  and  where  I  would ;  and  that  I  would  agree  to 
become  a  member  of  the  Murrell,  or  kidnapping  com- 
pany. To  this  I  agreed,  upon  oath,  while  a  knife  was 
pointed  at  my  heart. 

"We   now   entered   the   house.     I   remained  there 
some  time,  during  which  they  buried  William ;    an 
many  menamc  to  ihe  house,  whom  Moloch  said  wen 
members  of  the  cofftpany. 

"  On  the  second    night,  a   man  came  with  a    I 


DISCLOSURES   BY   MARIANA.  411 

two-horse  wagon,  which  he  filled  with  such  of  our 
things  as  they  considered  the  most  valuable.  "We  then 
travelled  all  night.  The  next  day  I  made  some  ado, 
on  account  of  William  and  my  twins,  whereupon  Mo- 
loch took  from  his  pocket  a  phial,  containing  some  liquid, 
which  he  bade  me  swallow.  I  thought  it  was  poison, 
and,  had  it  not  been  for  my  babe,  I  would  have  taken 
it  gladly,  for  I  was  weary  of  my  life.  I  obeyed,  how- 
ever, and  found  it  to  be  laudanum.  I  knew  nothing 
more  till  I  was  here,  and  a  prisoner.  My  child  accom- 
panied me  —  Moloch  promising  that  he  would  not 
take  it  away. 

"  I  frequently  saw  those  here,  whose  faces  were  fa- 
miliar to  me,  but  I  have  been  true  to  that  oath.  I  was 
glad  not  to  know  them.  I  did  the  work  of  the  house. 
I  cannot  tell  how  long  I  had  been  here,  when  Moloch 
took  away  my  child ;  and  I  have  never  seen  her  again ! 
It  is  only  since  then  that  I  have  had  the  '  spells.'  Be- 
fore that,  I  used  to  pray,  and  bear  my  troubles ;  and 
when  I  told  Moloch  that  God  would  punish  him  for 
his  wickedness,  he  said,  'there  is  no  God; '  and  he  held 
his  hand  up,  and  called  upon  God  to  damn  him,  if 
there  was  any.  But  I  see,  now,"  said  Mariana,  "  that 
there  is  a  God ;  and  I  prayed  to  him  last  night,  and 
this  morning,  and  I  think  he  has  heard  me ;  and  I  feel 
as  if  I  should  not  have  any  more  spells." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  I  want  you  to  pray  that  we 
may  get  away  from  here ;  and  then  perhaps  we  may 
find  your  children." 

"  If  we  do,"  said  the  wretched  woman,  "  it  will  be 
because  the  Lord  sends  an  angel  to  open  our  prison- 
doors.  And  if  you  were  not  an  angel  sent  right  down 
from  heaven,  I  believe  he  has  made  an  angel  of  you, 


412  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

some  way ;  for  I  have  not  suffered  near  so  much  since 
I  heard  you  pray ;  and  your  eyes  look  like  an  angel's. 
But,  if  anybody  comes  to  let  us  out  of  this  place, 
Moloch  and  David  will  shoot  them." 

"  Have  they  guns  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  Yes,  and  they  have  a  keg  of  powder." 

"  Where  do  they  keep  their  guns  ?  " 

"  In  my  room." 

Fanny  now  came  to  sleep  in  Emily's  room.  She 
was  tired,  and  Emily  forebore  asking  any  further  ques- 
tions ;  and  Fanny  and  the  child  were  soon  sound  asleep. 

Taking  the  light,  Emily  proceeded  to  the  room  of 
Nehemiah.  He  was  also  sleeping,  but  not  very  quietly. 
"  He  is  in  pain,"  thought  Emily.  She  now  threaded 
another  dark  passage,  and  came  to  the  room  of 
Mariana,  who  had  not  retired,  but  sat  upon  a  low  stool. 
As  Emily  entered,  she  looked  up,  arose,  and  motioned 
to  a  seat.  Emily  was  surprised  at  the  ease  and  polite- 
ness with  which  the  suffering  woman  did  this.  "  Surely," 
thought  Emily,  "she  has  once  moved  in  the  higher 
walks  of  society." 

Mariana  seated  herself  at  a  little  distance  from  Emily, 
iflfnd  her  manner  gave  evidence  that  she  was  pleased 
♦itli  the  visit.  Emily  did  not  break  the  silence,  for  she 
was  examining  the  room. 

Mariana  at  length  said :  "  I  am  not  accustomed  to 
living  so ;  but,  when  William  and  I  came  to  America, 
we  did  not  buy  many  nice  things,  for  it  seemed  wise  to 
wait  until  we  were  settled ;  but  I  had  some  pictures 
and  books,  and  a  chest  of  nice  clothes,  linen,  etc. 
Moloch  brought  them  here,  but  he  has  taken  them  all 
away,  and  sold  them." 

Mariana  went  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  lifted 


DISCLOSUEES   BY   MARIANA.  413 

a  board,  and  returned  with  a  paper,  which  she  handed 
to  Emily.  Upon  opening  it,  Emily  found  two  gold 
lockets,  with  each  a  picture. 

"  It  is  me  and  my  William,"  said  Mariana.  They 
were  both  exceedingly  good-looking. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  thought  Emily,  "  that  the  being  now 
before  me  was  ever  the  original  of  this  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  imagine,"  said  Mariana,  "  that  I  looked  so 
dreadful  bad,  until  I  saw  myself  in  that  glass.  But 
now,  nobody  would  know  that  I  was  once  Mariana ! " 

Emily  felt  grieved  for  the  oppressed  woman.  But 
she  had  come  on  an  important  errand,  which  admitted 
of  no  delay ;  and  she  said,  "  Where  do  they  keep  the 
guns  ? " 

Mariana  pointed  to  a  part  of  the  room,  where  stood 
a  bench  covered  with  different  kinds  of  tools.  It  resem- 
bled a  joiner's  bench,  except  that  it  was  smaller.  "  They 
are  in  there,"  said  Mariana ;  "  and  Moloch  said,  that  if 
I  opened  the  door,  there  was  one  gun  fixed  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  would  go  off,  and  kill  me.  And  I  have 
never-dared  to  open  it ;  but  he  took  that  one  away  with 
him,  I  think,  when  he  left  last." 

"  Are  the  guns  all  loaded  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  Moloch  is  afraid  of  something ;  and  he 
made  me  hold  the  light  for  him,  the  night  before  he 
went  away,  while  he  loaded  them." 

"  Well,"  said  Emily,  "  will  you  help  me  move  out 
this  bench?" 

This  was  soon  done ;  but  Emily  could  see  no  door, 
it  was  simply  pannel-work.  Mariana  applied  her  hand 
to  one  part  of  it,  evidently  pressing  quite  hard,  and  it 
flew  open.  "  This  is  a  strange  place,"  said  Emily,  start- 
ing back  as  she  attempted  to  look  in.     Do  tell  me, 


414  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Mariana,  all  you  know  about  the  house,  and  why  they 
shut  people  up  here.  This  place  seems  to  lead  into  a 
well,  or  deep  hole." 

"  You  did  n't  look  in  the  proper  direction,"  said 
Mariana ;  "  you  should  have  turned  your  eyes  to  the 
right.  There  is  a  hole  at  the  left,  where  they  used  to 
throw  stolen  goods.  Years  ago,  the  Murrell  gang  helped 
David  to  build  this  house ;  and,  when  anything  was 
stolen  that  they  were  afraid  would  be  found,  they  sent 
it  here ;  or,  if  they  had  kidnapped  anybody,  and  appre- 
hended pursuit,  they  brought  the  captives  here.  And 
now  they  have  become  pimps  to  the  lusts  of  Southern 
gentlemen,  who  pay  Moloch  and  David  well  for  the 
vile  service.  Those  who  deal  with  the  two  scoundrels 
of  course  speak  of  this  house  as  only  a  safe  private 
place  for  business." 

Emily  approached  the  closet  again ;  and,  following 
the  directions  of  Mariana,  she  soon  came  in  close  con- 
tact with  the  guns. 

"  I  used  to  go  all  over  the  house,"  said  Mariana, 
"  when  I  did  the  work,  before  Moloch  took  away  my 
child,  and  I  had  the  wild  spells.  But  since  Fanny 
came,  I  have  been  locked  up  in  this  room.  I  cooked 
nice  things  for  them,  and  prepared  great  suppers  ;  and 
they  would  sit,  and  drink,  and  play  cards,  and  tell  over 
the  wicked  things  they  had  done.  Oh,  it  was  dread- 
ful ! "     And  Mariana  shuddered. 

Emily  found  nearly  a  dozen  loaded  guns.  She 
immediately  filled  the  priming-holes  with  grease,  and 
replaced  the  weapons,  excepting  two,  which  she  carried 
to  her  own  room  and  secreted  under  her  bed  —  the  only 
hiding-place  in  the  room.  Fanny  expressed  her  sur- 
prise, as  she  caught  sight  of  the  guns  in  the  morning, 


DISCLOSURES    BY    MARIANA.  415 

from  her  position  upon  the  floor.  But  Emily  exhorted 
her  to  be  silent  and  firm,  and  render  prompt  aid,  in  case 
it  should  be  deemed  safe  to  attempt  to  escape. 

"  I  am  confident,"  declared  Emily,  "  that  God  will  be 
my  strength.  And  I  want  you  to  lend  me  your  knife, 
that,  in  case  I  fail  in  one  way,  I  may  not  in  the  other." 

"  Moloch  said,"  replied  Fanny,  "  that  he  supposed 
he  'd  have  to  die  some  time,  and  he  would  n't  wonder  if 
he  'd  be  murdered ;  but,  he  said,  he  was  n't  half  so 
wicked  as  David.  I  believe  he  felt  real  awful.  I 
asked  him  if  he  had  had  any  warning,  and  told  him 
I  'd  heard  Minta  say,  that  folks  sometimes  were  warned ; 
and  he  said,  he  had  a  'sentiment  that  something  was 
going  to  happen." 

"  Was  it  not  a  presentiment  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  I  don't  know  what  that  means." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Emily,  "I  think  it  is  an  impress  ion 
upon  our  mind,  by  some  power  delegated  from  God, 
and  which,  if  rightly  heeded,  might  afford  the  wicked 
time  for  repentance.  But,  if  they  do  not  heed  it,  it 
becomes  to  them,  in  the  language  of  the  Bible,  a  '  fear- 
ful looking-for  of  fiery  indignation.'  So  also,  with 
good  people  —  they  have  impressions.  Jesus  Christ 
promised  to  lead  them  into  all  truth.  Now,  if  they 
gave  heed  to  his  impressions,  it  would  save  them  a  vast 
amount  of  trouble.  I  once  lived  in  France ;  and  my 
father  wanted  I  should  come  to  America.  I  was 
impressed  not  to  come.  But  I  rejected  the  impression, 
and  came,  and  I  have  been  very  sorry.  My  cousin 
wanted  me  to  walk  out  one  evening.  I  was  strongly 
impressed  that  something  would  happen  to  me,  if  I  went. 
But  I  did  not  heed  ic;  and  I  was  kidnapped  and 
brought  here.     I  had  an  impression,  for  several  days,  of 


416  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

something  important  which  was  to  be  done  ;  and  it  kept  • 
me  thinking  all  the  time  what  it  could  be.  But,  as  soon 
as  Mariana  mentioned  the  guns,  I  knew  what  it  was, 
and  I  obeyed ;  and  it  will  turn  out  well  with  me  yet. 
This  idea  is  rejected  and  ridiculed  by  most  persons ; 
but  I  generally  receive  these  impressions,  and  have 
thereby  been  led  into  much  truth.  I  have  a  strong  pre- 
sentiment now,  that  retribution  is  about  to  fall  upon 
David  and  Moloch.  And,  if  you  will. trust  me,  and  do 
as  I  tell  you,  I  will  have  you  set  free,  if  possible,"  said 
Emily,  hopefully. 

"  Can  you  shoot  one  of  them  guns  ?  "  inquired  Fanny. 

"  Yes,  I  can  shoot  with  good  aim,  I  assure  you.  My 
grandfather  was  a  great  marksman.  They  used  to  say 
that  nobody  but  a  Yankee  could  beat  him.  He  took 
great  delight  in  training  me  to  shoot  at  a  mark ;  and, 
before  I  was  sixteen  years  old,  he  gave  me  the  name 
of  the  Yankee  marksman,  because  he  said  that  I  could 
excel  him." 

"  I  'm  dreadful  'fraid  of  guns ! "  exclaimed  Fanny. 

"  I  am  not  half  as  much  afraid  of  them,  even  if 
pointed^at  my  breast,  as  I  am  of  wicked  men,"  responded 
Emily.    v 

"  Well, 'I' will  help  you  what  I  can;  but  I  think  they 
will  kill  us  all,"  said  Fanny. 

Fanny  now  left  the  room,  but  soon  returned,  saying, 
as  she  handed  the  knife  to  Emily,  "  Nehemiah  says  I  'd 
better  die  than  be  real  wicked." 

.  "  This  will   do   good   execution,"   observed    Emily, 
drawing  the  knife  from  its  sheath. 

"  Won't  you  put  it  back  there  again,"  requested 
Fanny,  "and  hide  it  somewhere?  —  for  I  don't  want 
them  to  get  it." 


DISCLOSURES    UY   MA1UAXA.  -1 1  T 

Emily  returned  it  to  the  sheath,  and  placed  it  in  her 
bosom. 

"  How  is  Nehemiah  ? "  she  inquired. 

"  He  ain't  any  better,"  replied  Fanny,  "  and  he  wants 
you  to  come  and  see  him." 

Emily  found  him  quite  ill.  He  did  not  attempt  to 
speak ;  but  she  thought  there  was  a  mixture  of  curiosity 
and  pity  in  his  countenance.  With  the  assistance  of 
Fanny,  she  prepared  a  poultice  from  the  best  things  the 
house  afforded,  and  bound  up  his  knee ;  then,  bidding 
Fanny  apply  cold  water  to  his  head,  she  left  him. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

FURTHER    DISCLOSURES    OF    MARIANA    TO  EMILY. 

"  Who  are  you  going  to  shoot  ?  "  said  Mariana,  as 
she  entered  Emily's  room.  "  I  saw  you  bring  away 
two  of  those  guns  just  now." 

"  My  enemies,"  said  Emily,  "  if  need  be ;  but  I  shall 
do  it  only  as  a  last  resort." 

"  I  would  rather  have  one  of  the  pistols,"  said 
Mariana. 

"  Where  are  the  pistols  ?  " 

"On  the  shelf,  over  the  guns." 

"  Can  you  fire  a  pistol  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  I  believe  I  could,  although  my  hand  trembles  and 
my  eyes  are  weak." 

"  Why  have  you  not  shot  David  and  Moloch  before 
this  time,  then,  and  ran  away  ?  I  would  have  tried  it, 
if  I  had  made  a  random  shot,"  said  Emily. 

"  It  would  not  have  been  of  any  use,"  replied  Mariana. 
"  I  could  n't  have  got  away.  They  have  dogs,  which 
they  would  have  put  on  my  track.  Moloch  says,  they 
would  kill  anybody  in  the  swamp ;  and  that  there  is 
not  a  place  anywhere  about,  where  we  would  not  be 
taken.  They  have  some  kind  of  a  horn,  which  thej 
used  to  blow,  and,  in  a  few  minutes  after,  there  would 
be  lots  of  men  here." 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  get  the  pistols,"  said  Emily. 
"  If  I  don't  want  them,  I  will  bring  them  away,  so  that 

(418) 


DISCLOSURES  BY  MARIANA.  419 

they  cannot  have  them  to  shoot  us.  I  want  you, 
Mariana,  to  keep  your  mind  quiet,  and  pray  the  Lord 
that  you  may  have  courage  and  wisdom,  if  you  are 
asked  by  me  to  do  anything.  I  thought,  last  night, 
that  I  would  ask  you  to  tell  me  some  of  the  things 
those  men  used  to  boast  of  having  done." 

For  an  instant,  Emily  saw  a  shadow  pass  over  the 
face  of  the  injured  woman ;  but  it  was  soon  dispelled, 
and  Mariana  said :  "  That  question  of  yours  made  me 
think  of  my  little  girl,  that  Moloch  cruelly  took  from 
me  and  sold  into  slavery ;  for  the  very  night  they  took 
her  away,  I  heard  the  men  relate  their  murderous  and 
unholy  doings  ;  and  it  was  on  that  same  night  that  I 
had  my  first  terrible  spell." 

"  How  do  you  feel  when  you  are  going  to  have 
them  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  When  I  think  of  something  my  children  used  to 
do,  I  have  a  wild,  horrid  feeling  in  my  head ;  then  a 
burning  heat  all  over  my  body ;  then  my  heart  jumps 
terribly ;  then  I  become  dizzy,  and  stagger,  and  a  cold 
sweat  comes  all  over  me.  A  horrid  vision  of  "William 
hanging  on  the  tree,  of  the  twins  being  carried  off,  and 
of  my  little  girl  being  sold  to  the  trader,  comes  up  be- 
fore me.  Every  noise  I  -hear  makes  me  tremble,  and  I 
am  listening  all  the  time  to  hear  if  a  child  is  crying ; 
then  I  suppose  I  say  everything,  and  act  bad." 

"  Well,  you  need  not  tell  me  anything  more  about  it," 
said  Emily,  as  she  took  Mariana's  hands  in,  hers  and 
looked  into  her  eye.     Emily  then  asked, 

"  Does  your  head  ache  ?  " 

"  Some,"  was  the  reply. 

Emily  then  arose  and  passed  her  hands  several  times 
ever  Mariana's  head. 


420  THE   CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  It  does  not  ache  any  now,"  said  Mariana ;  "  but  1 
want  to  know  where  you  learned  that  ?  " 

"  I  learned  it  in  France.  My  grandfather  used  to 
cure  my  headache  that  way." 

"  Did  he  come  with  you  to  America  ?  " 

"  No.  He  is  still  in  France  ;  and,  if  I  ever  get  away 
from  here,  I  mean  to  go  to  him." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  His  name  is  Le  Roy." 

Mariana  was  silent  a  minute,  and  then  said,  "  What 
is  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Edith  Emily  Le  Rux." 

Mariana  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  said,  hurriedly : 
"  Come ;  come  with  me." 

Emily  was  alarmed.  "  She  is  indeed  going  to  have 
a  spell,"  thought  she.  But,  before  she  could  speak, 
Mariana  said:  "How  old  are  you  ?  "  and,  before  a  reply 
could  be  given,  she  added,  "  Is  your  mother  dead  ?  " 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Emily,  with  much  agitation. 
"  You  are  going  to  have  a  spell." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mariana,  "  I  am  not.  But  come 
with  me,  and  let  me  show  you  something." 

Emily  did  as  she  desired,  and  Mariana  led  her  to  her 
room. 

"  See  here,"  said  she,  as  she  lifted  the  board  from 
where  she  had  taken  the  lockets.  She  stooped,  and 
lifted  out  a  piece  of  old  oilcloth,  and,  unrolling  it. 
handed  Emily  a  paper,  on  one  side  of  which  was  writ- 
ten, "  Mr.  Le  Roy,  France,"  and  on  the  other,  "  Mr.  Le 
Rux,  New  Orleans." 

"  Who  wrote  it  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"I did,"  replied  Marian:!. 

•  How?"' 


DISCLOSURES   BY   MARIANA.  421 

"  I  wrote  it  so  as  to  remember  it."  Mariana  then  re- 
placed the  board,  and  went  with  Emily  back  to  her 
own  room. 

"  Now,  sit  down  by  me,"  she  continued,  "  and  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it." 

Emily  obeyed,  fixing  her  eyes  steadily  upon  her, 
without  speaking.     Mariana  said : 

"  It  was  the  very  night  on  which  they  took  away  my 
child  that  I  wrote  that  paper.  I  had  got  sapper  for 
the  men,  during  which  Agnes  had  been  holding  on  to 
my  clothes,  and  crying,  for  she  was  afraid  of  them. 
Moloch  swore  at  her,  and  threatened  to  throw  her  into 
the  well,  but  it  only  made  her  cry  harder.  I  was  glad 
when  they  went  to  gambling,  for  then  I  could  take  her 
up.  I  gave  her  some  supper,  and  she  soon  sobbed  her- 
self to  sleep,  when  I  laid  her  on  the  bed  and  went  to 
wash  my  dishes. 

"  While  I  was  washing  them,  I  heard  one  of  the 
men  talking  about  her.  He  told  Moloch  that  he  would 
give  him  one  hundred  dollars  for  her.  Moloch  said  he 
had  promised  me  that  he  would  not  sell  her,  and  that 
he  was  afraid,  if  he  did,  I  would  not  be  good  for  any- 
thing any  more.  I  felt  dreadfully,  and  sat  down  be- 
hind the  door,  where  1  could  hear  them  talk. 

"  David  said  that  I  would  work  better,  if  Moloch 
sold  the  child.  One  of  the  men  said,  he  was  afraid  I 
would  never  get  them  any  more  good  suppers,  and  that 
it  would  be  too  bad  to  take  her  from  me.  But  David 
laughed  at  him,  and  said,  it  was  all  stuff;  that  I  would 
do  a  great  deal  more  work.  '  Don't  you  see,'  said  he, 
1  how  she  hinders  her  mother,  by  hanging  on  to  her 
clothes,  while  she  is  going  about  the  house?  Besides, 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  time  taken  to  feed  her,  and  fix 
36 


422  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

and  wash  her  clothes.  A  hundred  dollars  is  a  pretty- 
good  price  for  her.  I  have  sold  lots  of  them  ;  but  I 
never  got  into  but  one  very  difficult  scrape.  That 
was  when  a  vessel  was  lost.  I  took  three  women 
and  five  children  from  the  vessel,  into  a  small  boat, 
and  brought  them  all  here,  except  one  woman, 
who  got  drowned.  When  they  came  in,  we  made 
them  all  give  in  their  names.  One  of  the  women  was 
French,  and  she  said  her  name  was  Le  Roy.  She  had 
a  little  girl,  about  three  years  old.  Old  Mr.  Le  Rux 
took  the  child,  and  I  kept  the  woman.  She  was  real 
handsome.  She  made  a  mighty  fuss  at  first,  but  I  soon 
brought  her  under.  There  was  one  child,  about  two 
years  old,  that  I  thought  I  would  keep  until  it  got 
older  ;  for  I  knew  the  father  was  in  the  city,  trying  to 
find  his  wife  and  children.  He  was  on  board  the 
vessel;  and  saw  them  put  into  the  boat.  At  last,  Mr. 
Le  Roy  came  over  from  France,  to  make  inquiries 
about  his  wife  and  child.  I  watched  him  until  he  got 
on  board  the  ship  to  return  to  France,  when  I  stepped 
on  board,  intending  to  deceive  him,  and  get  a  large  re- 
ward for  returning  him  his  child ;  but  I  had  merely 
time  to  place  the  child  in  his  arms  before  I  found 
that  the  vessel  was  getting  under  way.  I  hurried  on 
shore  without  even  speaking,  but  not  until  I  had  seized 
his  pocket-book,  which  lay  upon  the  table.' 

"  Did  he  tell  what  became  of  Mrs.  Le  Roy  ?  "  asked 
Emily. 

"  No,"  replied  Mariana ;  "  he  did  not  then ;  but  I  have 
heard  him  say  that  she  had  a  brother,  named  Marsells, 
who  was  brought  here  with  her,  and  who  went  crazy 
while  shut  up  here.  David  also  said  that  he  never  dared 
to  allow  him  to  go  anywhere,  as  he  had  a  brother  in 


DISCLOSURES   BY  MARIANA.  423 

the  city,  who  might  discover  thereby  much  that  he 
wanted  to  remain  obscure ;  consequently  he  was  obliged 
to  get  rid  of  him  the  best  way  he  could.  One  of  the 
men  asked,  if  he  gagged  him;  and  then  they  all  laughed 
heartily. 

"  I  did  not  believe  that  they  would  take  my  child 
from  me,"  continued  Mariana.  "  I  was  tired,  and  I  lay 
down  beside  her,  putting  my  arm  over  her.  They  were 
still  drinking,  swearing,  and  some  of  them  were  sing- 
ing, while  others  were  gambling.  I  did  not  mean  to  go 
to  sleep,  but  endeavored  to  hear  what  they  said.  I  did 
go  to  sleep,  however,  —  and  I  was  awakened  by  a  cry 
from  the  child ;  and,  as  I  opened  my  eyes,  Jew  David 
had  her.  I  was  soon  up,  and  sprang  at  him,  with  a  deter- 
mi  nation  to  tear  him  in  pieces,  for  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
do  it.  He  pushed  me  from  him  with  violence ;  but  I 
was  upon  him  again.  He  then  seized  me  by  the  hair, 
drew  me  to  the  door,  pressed  the  spring  with  his  foot, 
and  it  flew  open.  '  Go,'  said  he,  '  where  I  put  my 
,  woman,  into  the  well,'  and  he  pushed  me  towards  it. 
I  clung  to  him,  while  I  cried  '  Murder ! '  At  this,  three 
of  the  men  came.  Moloch  stopped  Jew  David,  and  took 
the  child.  As  I  saw  him  disappear  from  the  room,  I 
gave  one  scream,  and  fell  upon  the  floor. 

"  When  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  lying  upon  the  bed. 
I  arose,  and  went  to  the  door,  but  found  it  was  fast. 
At  night,  Moloch  came,  and  brought  me  some  bread 
and  water.  I  did  not  speak  or  look  at  him.  When  he 
came  again,  he  said  that,  if  I  did  not  get  up  and  go  to 
work,  and  say  nothing  about  the  child,  he  would  do  as 
David  said  —  throw  me  into  the  well,  where  David 
threw  his  women. 

"  I  think  I  had  a  spell  then ;  for  I  told  him  the  Lord 


424  THE    CUB8E    &NTAILS9. 

would  put  the  mark  of  a  murderer  upon  him,  and 
damn  him  forever.  I  told  him  everything  I  could  think 
of,  that  was  in  the  Bible,  about  punishing  the  wicked. 
I  told  him  he  dared  not  kill  me.  He  trembled  all  over, 
and  turned  as  pale  as  death.  At  last,  he  said  there 
was  n't  any  God.  I  told  him  I  knew  there  was  a  God. 
He  laughed,  and  asked  me  what  kind  of  a  God  he 
was  ?  He  then  went  away,  and  locked  me  up  in  this 
room.  I  prayed  the  Lord  to  send  an  angel  to  unlock 
the  door.  I  prayed  before  Moloch,  and  he  kept  saying, 
'  there  was  not  any  God '  so  often  that  I  began  to  be- 
lieve him." 

"  There  was  your  error,  Mariana.  You,  should  not 
have  believed  him,  but  trusted  in  God,"  said  Emily,  as 
she  bade  her  good-night,  and  retired  to  her  room. 

"  Surely,"  thought  Emily,  "  that  which  I  have  heard 
to-night  is  mysterious.  There  is  no  doubt  of  the  facts 
stated  by  Mariana ;  and  here  also  are  the  names  upon 
the  paper.  My  grandmother  was  the  wife  of  Mr.  Le 
Roy  of  France,  and  was  lost  on  her  passage  to  Amer- 
ica ;  but  I  have  never  heard  grandfather  speak  of  but 
one  child,  and  she  became  my  stepmother.  But,  if  he 
had  another,  and  she  was  taken  by  a  Mr.  Le  Rux  of  New 
Orleans,  it  must  have  been  grandfather  Le  Rux.  O, 
my  father !  would  that  I  could  once  more  behold  you, 
and  learn  from  you  the  truth;  learn  concerning  my 
mother,  and  why  I  am  enslaved  thus." 

O,  mystery  on  mystery !  All  seemed  dark  to  her,  as 
she  thought  of  the  well,  and  that  she  was  in  the  power 
of  the  same  wretch.  But  hope  again  revived  in  the 
heart  of  Emily.  She  glanced  at  the  spot  where  she 
had  secreted  the  guns.  The  thought  then  came  to  Iter 
mind  that  she  had  forgotten  the  pistols,  and  she  returned 


DISCLOSURES   BY  MARIANA.  425 

to  the  room  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  them.  Mariana 
showed  them  to  her,  and  she  took  them  from  the  shelf. 
As  she  turned  to  leave  the  place,  her  foot  came  upon 
something  hard,  which  she  picked  up,  and  found  to  be 
a  key.  She  placed  it  in  her  pocket,  and  retired  to  her 
room,  followed  by  Mariana. 

"  How  did  you  get  pen  and  paper  to  write  this  ? " 
said  Emily,  as  she  drew  from  her  pocket  the  paper  con- 
taining the  names.  "  Fanny  told  me  that  David 
brought  them  here  when  he  came,  but  carried  them 
away  with  him  again." 

"  David  used  to  leave  them  here,"  said  Mariana,  "  and 
I  wrote  it  then.  I  thought  if  ever  I  got  away,  I  would 
tell  about  it." 

36* 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

MOLOCH'S    RETURN. EMILY'S     HEROISM. THE     RESCUE. 


.*« 


"  Moloch  's  come,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  entered  the 
room  ;  "  and  he  wants  us  to  be  real  still.  I  have  never 
seen  him  act  so  before.  He  said  that  there  was  a  gen- 
tleman coming,  and  I  must  tell  you  that  it  was  his  orders 
that  you  fix  up  real  nice,  and  look  real  handsome ;  and 
mind  and  behave  yourself,  or  you  '11  never  get  out  of 
this  place.  He  got  this  comb,  and  says  you  must  comb 
your  hair  real  nice." 

Emily  felt  agitated ;  but  she  lifted  her  heart  above,. 
"  What  did  Moloch  say  to  you,  Fanny  ?  " 

"  He  said  I  was  old  enough  to  make  money  for  them ; 
and  that  David  said  I  must  raise  children  for  market. 
But  Moloch  acts  real  skared,  and  harks ;  and,  once,  I 
thought  he  was  going  for  a  gun." 

"  Well,  here  is  your  knife,"  said  Emily.  "  Take  it ; 
and,  if  Moloch  attempts  to  abuse  you,  do  as  Nehemiah 
said  ;  but  don't  use  it  as  long  as  you  can  escape  him. 
Have  you  a  pocket  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Fanny.  "  This  is  a  dress  they  got 
somewhere,  and  Moloch  told  me  to  put  it  on.  There 
is  a  real  good  pocket  in  it." 

"  Put  the  knife  in  it,  then,"  said  Emily,  "with  the  point 
downwards  ;  and  when  you  find  it  is  necessary  for  your 
safety  that  you  should  use  it,  take  it  out,  so ;  with  your 
right  hand,  take  off  the  sheath,  so.     Don't  be  frightened, 

(426) 


EMILY'S    HEROISM.— THE    RESCUE.  427 

but  aim  right  at  his  heart.  Now,  do  it,  as  you  value 
your  happiness  in  this  world  and  in  the  next." 

Fanny  seemed  aroused  to  a  sense  of  her  situation ; 
and,  Emily,  taking  the  comb,  bade  her  tell  Moloch  that 
she  was  combing  her  hair. 

Having  arrayed  her  person  as  neatly  as  possible, 
Emily  seated  herself,  with  her  Testament  in  her  hand, 
and  tried  to  calm  her  excited  mind ;  but  she  felt  the 
quick  throbbings  of  her  heart,  while  she  prayed  to  God 
for  strength.  "  I  will  trust  him,"  thought  she  ;  "  he  will 
never  forsake  me." 

She  heard  the  outer  door  opened,  then  her  door,  and 
a  man  entered,  closing  and  locking  the  door  after  him. 
He  advanced  boldly  toward  where  she  was  sitting. 
She  arose,  and,  fixing  her  eye  steadily  upon  him,  said : 

"  Sir,  this  is  a  very  unceremonious  manner  of  enter- 
ing my  room.     Have  you  any  business  with  me  ?  " 

Emily  had  recognized  in  the  intruder  Mr.  Livings- 
worth  ;  but  she  chose  not  to  make  it  known  at  once. 

Livingsworth  hesitated,  and  seemed  to  cower  for  an 
instant  beneath  her  look,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

"  "Whom  have  I  the  honor  of  addressing  ? "  said 
Emily. 

"  Livingsworth ;  my  name  is  Livingsworth,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  I  am  not  unacquainted  with  your  name  and  char- 
acter ;  and  I  therefore  wish  you  to  retire,"  said  Emily. 

Livingsworth  moved  towards  her  a  step  or  two,  and 
she  continued : 

"  Surely  one  of  your  profession  should  possess  honor 
sufficient  to  retire  at  the  bidding  of  a  lady ;  but,  as  you 
seem  undecided,  you  can  be  seated,  as  I  would  like  to 
ask  you  a  few  questions ; "  and,  without  giving  him  time 


428  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

to  reply,  she  arose,  and,  pointing  to  the  seat  she  had 
occupied,  passed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  and 
seated  herself  upon  a  stool,  at  the  head  of  the  bed. 

Livingsworth  hesitated,  and  again  advanced  towards 
her.  "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  come  any  nearer,"  said 
Emily,  as  she  arose  to  her  feet.  "  The  daughter  of 
Edward  Le  Rux  understands  herself  too  well  to  sub- 
mit to  any  impropriety.  You  will  either  leave  the 
room,  or  be  seated  and  reply  to  my  interrogations." 

Livingsworth  seemed  in  a  dilemma,  and  he  again 
cowered  as  he  met  her  eye.  Turning,  he  seated  him- 
self in  the  chair  which  Emily  had  left. 

"  I  said,"  remarked  Emily,  "  that  I  was  acquainted 
with  your  character.  You  have  just  returned  from  the 
North.  You  was,  doubtless,  instigated  to  attend  the 
meeting  of  the  Colonization  Society  from  a  pure  feel- 
ing of  philanthropy  for  the  crushed  and  *bleeding 
Africans." 

For  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Livingsworth  seemed  to  for- 
get the  object  of  his  visit.  He  was  evidently  flattered, 
and  said,  with  much  gravity : 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  Miss  Le  Rux.  I  consider  it 
one  of  the  most  benevolent  objects  of  the  age." 

"  It  undoubtedly  attracts  the  attention  of  every  reli- 
gious denomination,"  said  Emily. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  You  are,  doubtless,  one  of  that  class,"  continued 
Emily. 

"  I  am  a  member  of  the  Church,  and  I  endeavor  to 
honor  my  profession,"  replied  Livingsworth. 

"  If  so,  then  this  visit  is  a  fortunate  circumstance  for 
me,"  said  Emily,  "  as  I  am  confined  in  this  place  against 
my  will ;  and  your  philanthropy  will,  no  doubt,  lead 


emily's  heroism.— the  rescue.  429 

you  to  take  such  steps  as  will  bring  about  my  release. 
As  you  are  a  man  of  God,  and  certainly  feel  a  pride 
and  a  pleasure  in  doing  all  you  can  for  the  welfare  of 
society,  I  will  inform  you  that  this  is  a  house  of  great 
guilt.  There  are  those  confined  within  these  walls  who 
are  entitled  to  the  protection  of  the  law.  Besides 
many  acts  of  an  equally  revolting  nature,  here  was 
murdered  the  wife  of  one  of  the  noblest  sons  of  France. 
But  I  will  trouble  you  no  farther  than  to  ask  you  to 
unlock  these  prison-doors,  of  which  I  perceive  you 
have  the  keys,  and  protect  me  until  I  am  within  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  law." 

Here  the  mask  was  thrown  off,  and  Livingsworth 
exclaimed,  "  What !  and  lose  such  a  pretty  girl  as  you, 
for  whom  I  have  paid  the  highest  price  ?  " 

"  My  freedom  I  shall  have,  thou  base  hypocrite !  for 
there  is  an  inspiration  in  my  soul  that  gives  me  the 
assurance,"  said  Emily. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Livingsworth,  as  he  moved  towards 
her,  "  I  have  come  to  give  you  freedom,  but  you  must 
not  rob  me  of " 

"Advance  another  step  at  your  peril!"  said  Emily, 
as  she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Moloch  don't  give  girls  anything  to  hurt  folks  with ; 
he  has  seen  too  much  of  that.  You  will  hardly  escape 
as  Bernice  did,"  said  Livingsworth,  in  a  playful  manner. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  a  God  ?  "  asked  Emily,  as  she 
placed  her  hand  carefully  upon  the  pillow,  and  looked 
him  full  in  the  face. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  believe  in  a  God ;  and  I  also  believe  in 
such  pretty  girls  as  you,"  and  he  still  advanced. 

During  this,  Emily  had  slid  her  hand  under  the  pil- 
low.    "  Then  go  to  meet  your  God !  "  said  she,  as  she 


430  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

withdrew  her  hand,  and  exposed  a  pistol  to  his  view. 
Quick  as  thought,  she  took  deliberate  aim  —  there  was 
a  report,  and  Livingsworth  fell. 

"  You  ish  jusht  ash  pretty,  Fanny,  ash  de  w'ite  girls," 
said  Moloch,  as  he  entered  the  house,  after  delivering 
the  keys  to  Livingsworth. 

Moloch  turned  suddenly,  and  listened.  He  remained 
thus  some  ten  minutes  ;  then,  addressing  Nehemiah,  he 
said,  "  I  guessh  I  '11  get  my  gun." 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  for  the  key ;  but,  not  finding  it, 
he  proceeded  to  Mariana's  room.  He  entered,  and, 
uttering  a  horrid  oath,  gave  Mariana  a  blow  upon  the 
head;  took  two  of  the  guns,  without  noticing  that 
there  were  any  missing,  and,  on  returning,  placed  them 
near  the  door.  He  listened  again,  when  the  report  from 
Emily's  pistol  attracted  his  attention. 

"  Who  gave  her  the  pistol  ? "  said  Moloch,  as  he 
started  for  the  room. 

"  Let  me  in,  let  me  in,  quick! "  said  a  voice  at  the 
door,  which  they  recognized  as  David's.  "  The  guns  — 
the  pistols  —  be  quick,  or  we  are  lost! "  said  David,  in 
a  breath. 

Moloch  ran  into  Mariana's  room,  and  Emily,  who  had 
in  the  mean  time  escaped  from  her  own  room,  followed 
him  with  a  pistol. 

"  I  '11  shut  your  mouth,"  said  Moloch  to  Mariana. 

The  next  instant,  Moloch  fell  to  the  floor,  wounded 
by  Emily,  who  retreated  to  the  other  room,  followed  by 
Mariana.  Scarcely  had  she  reached  there,  before  a 
vigorous  and  powerful  attempt  was  made  to  force  the 
outer  door,  which  led  to  Emily's  room. 

"  They  are  our  enemies,"  said  David,  with  a  look  of 


EMILY'S   HEROISM.  —  THE   RESCUE.  431 

terror,  agitation,  and  anger,  seizing,  at  the  same  time, 
one  of  the  guns. 

Emily,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  took  from  the 
wounded  wretch,  Livingsworth,  the  keys.  While  she 
was  endeavoring  to  unlock  the  door,  David  raised  his 
gun,  and  pulled  the  trigger,  but  Emily's  previous  pre- 
cautions saved  her  life.  With  the  most  undaunted 
courage  she  unlocked  the  doors,  when  David  retreated 
from  the  room  in  extreme  terror,  closely  followed  by  at 
least  a  dozen  men. 

"  This  way,"  said  Mariana,  as  she  flew  into  the  yard 
and  around  the  building. 

"  Secure  him ! "  said  Dr.  Willis,  as  David  emerged 
from  an  opening  in  the  wall. 

Every  man  seemed  instinctively  to  rush  to  the  spot 
where  Jew  David  was  attempting  to  make  his  escape. 
He  was  soon  secured  in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent 
his  easily  getting  away.  This  debased  villain  seemed 
determined  to  sustain,  to  the  last,  his  character  for 
hypocrisy,  and,  seeing  that  there  was  now  no  chance  for 
escape,  he  said :  "  I  ish  not  guilty;  I  ish  real  honest." 

At  this  instant,  a  cry  was  heard  from  Mariana. 

"  Where  is  Mariana  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  This  way,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  ran  for  Mariana's 
room,  followed  by  others. 

"  Moloch 's  not  dead,"  said  Mariana;  "and  I  thought 
I  would  try  to  learn  from  him  what  he  had  done  with 
my  child." 

"  Take  him  to  the  open  air,"  said  Dr.  Willis,  "  and 
let  me  examine  his  wound.  I  have  other  business  for 
him  than  dying,  just  now." 

The  rescue  of  Emily  seemed  now  complete.  The 
providence  of  God  appeared  to  be  on  the  side  of  her 


432  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

deliverers ;  for  they  scarcely  anticipated  so  easy  a  suc- 
cess. But  much  yet  remained  to  be  done,  and  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Emily  to  the  doctor,  after  he 
had  finished  dressing  Moloch's  wound. 

They  went  to  Emily's  room,  where  the  body  of  Liv- 
ingsworth was  still  lying.  Emily  soon  explained  all 
to  Dr.  Willis. 

"  Well,  another  of  our  most  prominent  citizens  has 
gone,"  said  the  doctor. 

At  this  instant,  Livingsworth  groaned. 

"  He  is  not  dead,"  said  the  doctor;  "but  I  must  man- 
age this  affair.  You  must  be  silent,  Emily.  I  am  con- 
versant with  Southern  scenes,  and  understand  all  the 
points  of  law.  I  have  already  entered  a  suit  to  prove 
your  freedom." 

"  Where  is  Nehemiah  ?  "  asked  Emily  of  Fanny,  as 
she  met  her  in  the  passage. 

"  I  was  coming  to  tell  you,"  said  Fanny,  "  that  he 's 
gone  right  off  with  the  men." 

"  Did  they  arrest  the  poor  fellow  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  Nehemiah  is  a  witness,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  will 
make  full  disclosures." 

"  Whoever  is  claimed  by  Jew  David,"  said  Mr.  Bat- 
tell,  as  he  entered  the  house,  "must  be  conducted  to  the 
city." 

The  sheriff  then  took  charge  of  Mariana,  Emily, 
Fanny,  and  the  child.  They  were  placed  in  a  carriage, 
brought  by  Mr.  Battell  for  the  purpose  —  Dr.  Willis 
alone  remaining  behind. 

"  Moloch  and  Livingsworth  require  my  immediate 
attention,"  said  Dr.  Willis  to  Emily,  as  he  handed  her 
to  the  carriage.     "  The  former  may  be  of  great  service 


EMILY'S   HEROISM.  —  THE   RESCUE.  433 

in  the  coming  trials.  As  to  Livingsworth,  I  hold  a 
power  over  him,  which  places  him  in  my  hands.  His 
wound  is  not  in  my  opinion  fatal,  unless  it  be  neg- 
lected ;  and,  fortunately,  I  anticipated  the  need  of  sur- 
gical assistance  in  this  expedition."  The  doctor  then 
spoke  a  few  words  to  Mr.  Battell,  and  re-entered  the 
building,  followed  by  Nehemiah,  who  had  returned. 

37 


CHAPTER     XLII. 

THE    TRIAL    FOR    EMILY'S    FREEDOM. 

Several  weeks  elapsed  before  the  trial.  It  was  the 
wish  of  Dr.  Willis  that  Jew  David's  trial,  for  murder, 
should  take  place  before  Emily's,  for  her  freedom.  He 
visited  the  villain  often  in  prison.  The  Jew  was 
dogged  and  sullen.  He  was  at  length  attacked  with 
severe  sickness..  The  doctor  proved  himself  humane; 
he  had  the  sufferer  removed  to  a  comfortable  apartment, 
and  kindly  attended.  But  his  trial  was  necessarily 
postponed. 

The  day  at  length  arrived  for  the  trial  for  Emily's 
freedom. 

The  first  testimony  introduced  was  the  confession 
of  Jew  David.  This  was  objected  to,  on  the  alleged 
ground  that  it  had  been  extorted  from  him  while  in 
prison.  The  court  overruled  the  objection,  and  it 
was  read,  as  follows  : 

"  I  do  hereby  confess  that  I  took  from  a  ship,  which 
was  sinking  near  this  shore,  in  the  year  18 — ,  a  white 
child,  which  I  believed  to  be  of  French  birth ;  and  that 
said  child  afterwards  became  the  property  of  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Le  Rux,  Senior,  and  was  held  by  him  as  a  slave, 
under  the  name  of  Judy.  I  do  farther  acknowledge 
that  I  seized  upon  the  present  Emily  Le  Rux,  under  a 
claim  held  by  me  against  Mr.  William  Le  Rux,  Junior, 
and  that  I  did  this,  knowing  that  she  was  a  child  of  the 

(434) 


TRIAL   FOR  EMILY'S  FREEDOM.  435 

aforesaid  Judy,  by  the  son  of  her  master,  Edward  Le 
Rux,  who  eloped  with  her  to  France." 

Moloch  was  next  called.  His  testimony  substan- 
tiated the  confession  of  Jew  David,  which  proved  the 
slave  Judy  to  have  been  kidnapped  in  childhood.  But 
that  was  not  sufficient  to  prove  Emily  the  child  of 
Judy. 

Men  were  excited  upon  the  subject.  They  were  to 
be  seen,  here  and  there,  in  groups.  Some  turned  pale 
when  they  heard  that  Jew  David  was  under  arrest  for 
murder.     But  still  Dr.  Willis  was  calm. 

Frank  Le  Rux  was  at  length  introduced  as  a  witness. 
He  did  not  know  the  mother  of  Emily.  His  father 
had  never  even  hinted  to  him  that  his  cousin  Emily 
was  a  slave ;  he  had  always  placed  her  upon  an  equality 
with  himself  in  the  family.  But  Frank's  heart  died 
within  him,  when,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  stand,  he 
cast  his  eyes  upon  many  in  the  room. 

All  was  still  in  that  court,  when  Dr.  Willis  entered 
with  Emily  Le  Rux  leaning  upon  his  arm.  Her  veil 
was  thrown  back ;  she  was  seated,  and  men,  dealers  in 
human  flesh  and  blood,  were  looking  into  her  face, 
speculating  in  their  own  minds  upon  her  good  looks, 
and  estimating  the  price  that  she  would  probably  bring 
when  sold  upon  the  auction-block.  The  judge,  from  his 
bench,  also  cast  occasional  glances  at  the  beautiful 
being,  claimed  as  a  chattel,  before  him. 

Frank  Le  Rux  was  beside  Ins  cousin ;  he  could  not 
help  indulging  in  varied  anticipations.  He  thought  the 
judge  would  by  no  means  prejudge  the  case,  for  it  was 
for  him  to  decide  whether  the  occupant  of  that  seat 
was  a  human  being  with  a  right  to  herself,  or  a  chattel, 
subject  to  the  brutal  control  of  others.     Frank  believed 


430  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

the  judge  was  moved  by  the  scene,  for  he  could  not 
brook  his  glances.  Frank  looked  from  the  judge  to 
Emily ;  she,  too,  had  been  watching  the  judge.  Frank 
thought  he  had  never  seen  her  appear  so  beautiful,  or 
her  eyes  so  illuminated. 

But  Emily  knew  nothing  of  the  young  man  who 
was  now  called  to  the  witness-stand.  As  the  witness 
raised  his  eyes,  Frank  recognized  his  friend  and  corres- 
pondent, Edward  Le  Clare,  from  the  North.  He  started 
to  speak  to  Emily,  but  he  caught  Mr.  Battell's  eye,  and 
forbore. 

Edward  Le  Clare  proceeded  to  give,  in  brief,  his 
own  history.  Emily's  eyes  were  riveted  upon  him ; 
suddenly  she  sprang  to  his  side,  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  exclaimed :  "  My  brother !  O  my  dear 
brother!"  No  more  words  were  audible;  the  long 
separated  brother  and  sister  were  folded  in  each  other's 
embrace,  sobbing  aloud. 

The  judge  bowed  his  head  in  silence.  All  in  the 
court-room  were  taken  by  surprise ;  many,  in  human 
sympathy,  were  moved  to  tears. 

Emily  had  yet  much  to  learn  from  her  brother's  tes- 
timony. He  proceeded  to  state,  in  detail,  what  his 
father  had  related  to  him  before  death.  Emily  was 
overwhelmed  with  grief  and  astonishment,  and  wept. 
She  now  learned,  for  the  first  time,  that  her  own  mother 
had  lived,  and  that  she  had  been  cruelly  separated  from 
her  by  that  father  whom  she  so  dearly  loved ;  and  had 
been  forced  to  acknowledge,  another  woman  as  mother, 
while  her  own  mother  had  been  dying  of  a  broken 
heart.  But  now,  both  father  and  mother  were  dead, 
and   she  an  orphan  !     Edward  Le  Clare  had  finished 


TRIAL   FOR  EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  437 

his  testimony,  and  seated  himself  beside  Emily,  with 
her  hand  in  his. 

Again  silence  reigned  in  the  court,  when  Dr.  Willis 
entered,  with  an  aged  gentleman  leaning  upon  his  arm. 
He  was  clad  in  a  traveling  suit,  and  had  evidently  just 
left  some  public  conveyance.  He  was  seemingly  worn 
out  with  fatigue ;  his  look  was  dignified,  but  sad.  As 
he  seated  himself,  Emily  recognized  him  as  her  grand- 
father, Americus  M.  Le  Roy,  from  France.  Tears 
trembled  in  the  old  man's  eyes,  as  he  beheld  his  dear 
Emily,  her  face  still  bearing  the  traces  of  grief. 

Dr.  Willis  now  took  the  witness-stand.  There  were 
evident  signs  of  uneasiness  in  the  room,  and,  as  he 
looked  around,  he  observed  a  sort  of  dread  lest  some 
revelations  would  be  made,  affecting  persons  present. 
Said  Dr.  Willis :  "  In  my  professional  capacity,  I  at- 
tended the  deathbed  of  William  Le  Rux,  Senior.  I 
hold  in  my  hand  his  dying  confession." 

But  who  was  the  counsel  to  whom  Dr.  Willis  gave 
the  sealed  document  ?  All  eyes  were  turned  upon  him. 
He  was  a  stranger ;  but  he  sent  a  thrill  through  the 
court,  when,  breaking  the  seal,  he  read  aloud,  "  The 
dying  confession  of  William  Le  Rux,  Senior."  There 
was  excitement  among  those  seated  nearest  the  defend- 
ant's counsel,  and  several  gentlemen  arose  to  leave  the 
court-room ;  but  the  judge  ordered  the  sheriff  to  keep 
order,  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  the  confession,  and  it 
was  read,  as  follows : 

"  With  a  full  sense  of  my  guilt,  in  having  been 
accessary,  with  many  others,  in  the  plot  of  kidnapping 
a  female  child,  which  I  believe  to  have  been  of  French 
birth ;  also  of  receiving  such  child  from  Jew  David,  as 
my  part  of  the  spoil   taken  from  a  ship  which  was 


438  THE    CTRSE    ENTAILED. 

wrecked  upon  this  shore,  —  I  do  now,  in  the  presence 
of  God,  declare,  that  I  do  this,  praying  that  God, 
before  whom  I  must  soon  appear,  will  pardon  all  my 
sins.  Furthermore,  I  here  swear,  before  Almighty  God, 
that  this  child  was  kept  in  my  family  as  a  slave,  under 
the  name  of  Judy,  until  she  was  seventeen  years  of  age, 
at  which  time  my  son  Edward  eloped  with  her.  Judy 
was  not  a  slave  by  birth,  but  kidnapped  by  Jew  David. 

"  I  have  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Willis,  my  attending 
physician,  that  Edward  and  Judy  were  lawfully  mar- 
ried ;  that  they  remained  in  America  nearly  one  year ; 
then  sailed  for  France,  where  they  now  reside ;  that 
Judy  took  the  name  of  Emily ;  that  she  is  now  the 
mother  of  two  children,  a  son  and  daughter.  This 
confession  is  to  be  used  in  case  they  ever  return  to 
America,  and  she  or  her  children  are  claimed  as  slaves. 
But,  if  they  remain  in  France,  or  if  they  return  to 
America  and  are  not  claimed  as  slaves,  it  is  not  to  be 
used,  but  to  remain  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Willis ;  or,  if 
he  dies,  it  is  to  be  placed  in  safe  hands,  for  the  security 
of  Judy  and  her  children." 

This  confession  was  witnessed  by  William  Le  Rux, 
Junior,  and  Augustus  Brinsmade.  Then  followed  the 
expression  of  a  desire,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Le  Rux,  that, 
in  case  Edward  should  return  to  America,  William 
would  relinquish  so  much  of  the  property  bequeathed 
to  him  as  would  serve  for  the  liberal  support  of  Edward 
and  his  family ;  provided  Edward  would  study  a  pro- 
fession, or  engage  in  some  employment. 

The  pledge  of  William  Le  Rux,  Junior,  to  comply 
with  the  request  of  his  father,  came  next,  with  a  solemn 
oath  to  protect  Judy  and  her  heirs  from  any  injustice. 

Then  followed  a  certification   by  a  justice  of  the 


TRIAL    FOR   EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  439 

peace,  G.  Granger,  that  the  document  was  voluntarily 
subscribed  and  sworn  to  before  him,  by  William  Le 
Rux,  Senior. 

Many  who  had  turned  pale,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  reading,  now  breathed  more  freely. 

The  counsel  for  the  defendant  suggested  the  impor- 
tance of  introducing  Mr.  Augustus  Brinsmade  as  a 
witness,  to  state  in  what  manner  the  confession  had  been 
obtained  from  "William  Le  Rux,  Senior.  Immediately, 
Mr.  Battell  moved  to  the  witness-stand.  Butwhere  were 
his  handsome  locks,  which  Emily  so  much  admired  ? 
They  were  gone,  and  in  their  place  were  a  few  gray 
hairs.  He  even  looked  older  than  Emily  had  suggested 
to  Frank,  after  Mr.  Battell's  first  visit  to  them,  at  her 
uncle's  house.  There  were  some  persons  present,  who 
recognized  in  the  witness  the  son  of  their  former  friend 
and  preacher,  Rev.  Thomas  Brinsmade. 

This  son  had  become  a  bitter  enemy  to  slavery.  He 
had  read  the  publications  of  the  New  England  aboli- 
tionists ;  had  learned  about  the  mobbing  of  anti-slavery 
ladies  of  Boston,  with  the  cruel  treatment  of  those 
Heaven-imbued  and  world-renowned  philanthropists, 
W.  L.  Garrison  and  George  Thompson ;  and  he  would 
not  be  silent.  For  expressing  his  views  on  the  subject 
of  slavery,  he  had  been  branded  as  an  abolitionist  and 
fanatic,  had  been  driven  from  home  by  his  father, 
and  expelled  from  the  South  by  "  respectable  citizens." 
Now,  again,  he  stood  in  their  midst,  his  gray  hairs 
reminding  them  of  the  flight  of  time,  and  perhaps  also 
that  there  is  a  God  who  overrules  the  destinies  of 
nations  and  men. 

For  a  moment,  Mr.  Brinsmade  looked  around  him, 
and  his  eve  rested  on  individuals  whom  he  seemed  to 


440  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

recognize ;  and  their  eyes  drooped,  as  if  the  recognition 
was  not  altogether  agreeable  to  them. 

He  proceeded  to  say :  "  I  was  born  in  this  city.     My 

father  was  the  pastor  of Church.     William  Le 

Rux,  Senior,  was  a  leading  member  of  my  father's 
church,  and  there  was  an  intimacy  between  the  families. 
William  Le  Rux,  Junior,  and  Edward,  his  brother, 
were  my  friends.  William  often  made  me  his  confi- 
dant, and  opened  his  heart  to  me  freely.  At  the  age 
of  twenty,  Edward  eloped  with  one  of  his  father's 
slaves,  called  Judy.  William  often  spoke  to  me  about 
it ;  said  that  he  believed  Judy  had  been  kidnapped  in 
her  infancy,  as  he  could  never  feel  convinced  that  there 
was  a  drop  of  black  blood  in  her  veins.  He  said  he 
blamed  his  mother  for  permitting  Edward  to  be  so 
much  in  her  company :  not  that  Judy  was  artful,  but 
she  was  kind-hearted  and  interesting,  and  Edward  had 
loved  her  from  a  child.  William's  heart  yearned  for 
his  brother,  and  he  desired  much  a  reconciliation  between 
him  and  his  father ;  but  his  father  threatened  to  disin- 
herit the  younger  son. 

"  William  Le  Rux,  Senior,  was  sick  with  consump- 
tion. One  night,  William,  Junior,  came  to  me,  saying 
that  his  father  was  worse,  and  desiring  me  to  sit  up  with 
him  during  the  night.  Mr.  Le  Rux  reclined  in  an 
easy-chair  until  about  ten  o'clock ;  and  conversed  at 
intervals  respecting  his  temporal  afFairs.  At  length,  he 
said :  '  I  have  almost  repented  that  I  did  not  make  a 
provision  in  my  will  in  favor  of  my  son  Edward,  in 
case  he  should  return  to  America.'  William  suggested 
that  it  could  be  done  on  the  morrow.  Mr.  Le  Rux 
then  lay  down. 

"  At  midnight,  he  seemed  more  distressed,  and  desired 


TRIAL   FOR   EMILY'S  FREEDOM.  441 

to  be  raised  up  in  bed.  William  was  alarmed,  and 
went  for  Dr.  Willis.  The  doctor  said  that  probably  an 
abscess  had  broken  in  his  lungs,  and  that  he  feared  the 
old  gentleman  would  not  live  until  morning.  He  lay- 
silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  exclaimed,  '  Death ! 
Death !     O  my  son  Edward ! " 

"  '  If  it  will  afford  you  any  satisfaction  to  hear  from 
your  son  Edward,  I  can  state  that  I  hold  correspond- 
ence with  him,'  said  Dr.  Willis,  leaning  over  the  bed. 
'  I  can  assure  you  that  Edward  and  Judy  were  lawfully 
married  in  my  house,  and,  after  remaining  in  America 
nearly  one  year,  sailed  for  France.  They  have  a  son 
and  daughter,  and  move  in  good  society.' 

"  After  a  short  interval  of  silence,  Mr.  Le  Rux  grasped 
the  doctor's  hand  cordially,  and  the  latter  continued : 
'  I  gave  Judy  to  Edward  as  my  own  child,  under  the 
name  of  Emily.  There  was  a  trinket  attached  to  her 
clothing,  when  brought  to  your  house,  which,  I  trust, 
will  yet  show  her  birthright.  If  you  have  any  knowl- 
edge of  wrong  done  to  her,  at  that  time,  I  entreat  you 
to  make  a  clean  breast  within  one  hour,  as  you  hope 
for  mercy  from  that  God  before  whom  you  must  soon 
appear.' 

"  Mr.  Le  Rux  was  greatly  agitated. 

" '  Yes,  father,  do  it,'  said  William,  as  Dr.  Willis  re- 
linquished the  hand  of  the  dying  man  and  stepped 
aside,  while  William  took  his  place.  Mr.  Le  Rux 
spoke  to  William ;  then  he  left  the  room,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  returned  with  justice  G.  Granger,  a  particular 
friend  of  his  father.  William  seated  himself  by  the 
bed,  and  repeated  the  words  spoken  by  his  father  to  G. 
Granger,  Esq.,  who  wrote  them  down. 

"  When  he  had  finished,  Mr.  Le  Rux  requested  that 


442  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

the  statement  might  be  read  to  him ;  which,  being 
done,  he  pronounced  it  correct.  He  attempted  to  affix 
his  signature,  but  was  unable.  He  then  requested  Wil- 
liam to  sign  it  for  him,  in  his  presence.  The  paper 
was  signed  by  William  and  myself,  as  witnesses,  certi- 
fied by  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  sealed  in  his  pres- 
ence ;  all  of  which  Mr.  Le  Rux  watched  with  evident 
satisfaction. 

"  He  then  requested  us  to  call  his  wife ;  with  whom 
he  conversed  at  intervals,  for  an  hour,  exhorting  her 
to  be  kind  to  their  son  Edward,  should  he  return  to 
America. 

"  He  thanked  Dr.  Willis  for  the  course  he  had  pur- 
sued in  regard  to  Edward,  and  asked  him  to  pray  that 
God  would  forgive  him  his  great  guilt." 

The  council  for  the  defence  proceeded  to  a  rigid 
cross-examination  of  the  witness,  Mr.  Brinsmade,  say- 
ing he  ought  to  give  an  account  of  himself;  how  and 
where  he  had  spent  his  time  since  his  departure  from 
the  city,  as  he  had  left  in  a  manner  disapproved,  not 
only  by  the  community,  but  by  his  own  excellent 
father,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brinsmade,  now  deceased ;  who, 
though  wealthy,  and  leaving  a  large  property,  had  been 
so  entirely  convinced  of  his  son's  worthlessness,  that  he 
had  disinherited  him.  He  (the  counsel)  strongly  sus- 
pected that  the  witness  had  spent  his  time  in  plotting 
with  Northern  fanatics  to  destroy  Southern  institutions. 
After  this  partisan  harangue,  the  counsel  proceeded  to 
question  Mr.  Brinsmade ;  but,  at  each  question  pro- 
pounded and  each  answer  given,  his  eye  fell  beneath 
the  calm,  dignified  look  of  that  gentleman. 

At  length, the  counsel  asked:  "  Where  did  you  spend 
the  first  five  years  after  leaving  this  city  1 " 


TRIAL   FOR   EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  443 

"  At  college  in ,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Where  did  you  spend  the  next  five  years  ?  " 

"  In  the  States  of  Connecticut  and  New  York." 

"  What  was  your  business  while  in  those  States  ?  " 

"  I  was  in  the  law  office  of ,  in  Connecticut, 

during  the  first  two-and-a-half  years;    and  the  next 

two-and-a-half  in  the  village  of ,  State  of  New 

York,  as  a  partner  in  the  firm  of  Brinsmade  and  Co." 

At  these  answers,  the  ardor  of  the  counsel  for  the 
defence  seemed  somewhat  to  abate,  and  he  uncon- 
sciously dropped  into  a  seat. 

The  witness  remarked,  "  You  would  doubtless  have 
recollected  me,  had  not  so  many  years  been  added  to 
my  life  since  we  were  partners  in  that  office ! " 

The  lawyer  arose,  seeming  somewhat  revived ;  and, 
without  looking  at  the  witness,  asked,  in  a  less  inso- 
lent tone,  "  Well,  sir,  where  have  you  been  for  these 
last  few  years  ?  " 

"  I  have  spent  them  travelling  in  America  and  in 
Europe.  My  business  has  been  to  ferret  out  the  hiding- 
place  of  a  man  who  committed  a  heavy  forgery,  and 
who,  it  was  thought,  had  gone  to  California.  I  sought 
him  there,  and  throughout  the  United  States,  and  then 
through  Europe.  In  order  that  I  might  detect  and 
seize  the  villain,  without  exposing  myself  to  his  dagger 
or  pistol,  I  assumed  the  name  of  Battell,  and  put 
on  this  disguise."  Here  Mr.  Brinsmade  took  from  his 
hat  a  wig,  and  placed  it  upon  his  head. 

The  council  for  the  defence  commenced  his  plea  in 
the  case.  Much  of  his  bold  demeanor  was  gone;  but 
he  endeavored  to  weaken  the  testimony.  As  to  the 
confession  of  Jew  David,  he  claimed  that  it  was  not 
well  authenticated.     The  testimony  of  Moloch  failed 


444  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

to  prove  Emily  to  be  a  child  of  the  slave  girl  Judy, 
who  was  kidnapped.  The  testimony  of  Frank  Le 
Rux  proved  nothing  worth  noticing,  except  that  his 
father  had  indulged  a  weak  feeling  for  his  brother's 
child,  and  had  not  seen  fit  to  tell  his  son  all  the  family 
secrets. 

The  counsel  said,  in  substance :  "  The  fourth  wit- 
ness, Edward  Le  Clare,  has  told  the  court  a  long  story, 
for  the  purpose  of  exciting  sympathy.  Yet,  according 
to  the  testimony,  his  mother  knew  very  little  of  her- 
self, except  that  she  was  a  slave,  and  liable  to  be 
claimed  as  such ;  in  fact,  she  constantly  feared  such  a 
lot,  and  had  therefore  taken  shelter  among  Northern 
abolitionists.  This  witness  had  stated  that  his  father 
ran  away  with  one  of  his  grandfather's  slaves,  because 
nurse  Margaret  had  found  a  splendid  bracelet  attached 
to  her  clothing ;  but,  even  if  nurse  Margaret  were  here 
to  substantiate  the  testimony,  and  she  could  succeed  in 
making  the  court  understand  her,  it  would  be  merely 
the  testimony  of  a  slave,  which  is  no  better  than  the 
testimony  of  a  horse  —  if  a  horse  could  talk. 

"  Dr.  Willis  had  stated  to  the  court  that  he  had  been 
the  attending  physician  at  the  deathbed  of  William 
Le  Rux,  Senior;  and,  on  that  occasion,  he  had  told 
William  Le  Rux,  Senior,  that  his  son  Edward  and  his 
slave  Judy  were  living  in  France,  in  fashionable  high 
life.  This  Dr.  Willis  had  probably  told  Mm,  no 
doubt  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  him  to  make  a  con- 
fession. Dr.  Willis  also  testified  that  he  had  broken 
the  laws  of  the  State,  in  aiding  a  slave  to  escape  from 
her  master;  and  had  even  given  her  away  as  his  own 
daughter !  Very  well  —  she  might  have  been  his  own 
daughter;  but,  if  it  were  the  case,  the  condition  of  the 


TRIAL    FOR   EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  445 

girl  Emily  would  follow  that  of  the  mother  Judy,  and 
Emily  was  therefore  a  slave. 

"  The  documents  in  the  case  further  show  that  Wil- 
liam Le  E-ux,  Junior — who,  it  was  claimed,  was  one  of 
the  witnesses  to  the  confession  —  had,  within  the  last 
year,  given  Jew  David  a  mortgage  on  the  girl  Emily. 
He  was  now  dead,  and  it  might  answer  to  use  such  a 
document  or  confession ;  but,  if  he  were  living,  it  would 
never  have  been  attempted." 

The  counsel  aimed  at  being  argumentative ;  but  he 
seemed  ill  at  ease.  Dr.  Willis  was  convinced  that  he 
cared  but  little  how  the  case  was  decided.  The  law- 
yer seated  himself,  but  kept  his  eyes  directed  toward 
the  door.  Suddenly,  he  became  ill ;  whispered  to  the 
man  who  sat  next  him,  who  arose  to  assist  him  from 
the  room. 

Mr.  Brinsmade  passed  to  the  sheriff  certain  papers. 
This  movement  was  observed  by  the  lawyer,  where- 
upon he  seemed  to  acquire  new  strength.  He  leaped 
bench  after  bench,  and  made  a  desperate  effort  to  reach 
the  door ;  but  the  sheriff  laid  his  hand  upon  the  forger, 
and  they  went  out  together.  This  unexpected  scene 
caused  great  excitement  in  the  court,  and  many  persons 
made  a  rush  for  the  door,  among  whom  were  several 
prominent  men,  members  of  different  churches. 

Order  bein*  at  length  restored,  the  counsel  for  the 
plaintiff,  in  a  dignified  and  candid  manner,  proceeded  to 
sum  up  the  evidence  adduced  in  behalf  of  the  freedom 
of  Emily.  He  argued  that  "the  confession  of  Jew 
David  bore  evident  marks  of  truth  upon  its  face.  He 
was  in  prison,  awaiting  trial  for  the  highest  crime — that 
of  murder.  There  he  had  ample  opportunity  for  reflec- 
tion ;  and  doubtless  believed  that  he  would  be  proved 
38 


446  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

guilty.  God  had  laid  his  chastening  hand  upon  the 
Jew ;  and  he  had  been  taken  sick,  in  prison.  Under 
such  circumstances,  he  had  made  a  confession  to  the 
attending  physician.  The  very  manner  of  his  confess- 
ing proved  that  there  was  no  aberration  of  mind  on 
his  part.  His  motive  in  doing  it  was,  doubtless,  to  re- 
gain mental  peace,  or,  in  other  words,  to  quiet  his  con- 
science ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  had  evidently 
studied  not  to  afford  a  legal  hold  on  himself,  should  he 
not  be  convicted.  For  that  reason,  he  had  refused  to 
make  such  confessions  as  were  desired  before  a  justice 
of  the  peace.  He  was  in  a  most  miserable  situation — 
a  consciously  guilty  man,  suspended  between  this  world 
and  the  next,  desiring  to  propitiate  the  court  of  high 
Heaven,  before  which  he  might  soon  be  compelled  to 
appear ;  and  yet  restrained  by  the  hope  that  he  might 
possibly  escape  death  at  the  hands  of  the  law.  The 
court  knew  that  a  man  like  him,  a  Jew,  a  usurer  by 
profession,  would  part  with  anything,  but  life,  sooner 
than  relinquish  worldly  gain.  Yet,  confined  as  he  was, 
the  fear  of  an  offended  God  had  induced  him  to 
acknowledge  that  he  had  no  right  to  the  girl,  Emily. 

"  The  testimony  of  Moloch  went  to  substantiate  that 
of  Jew  David,  and  proved  a  clear  case  of  kidnapping ; 
but  the  subordinate  villain,  too,  had  been  careful  not  to 
say  anything  which  would  implicate  himself. 

"  As  to  the  testimony  of  Frank  Le  Rux,  it  showed 
clearly  that  his  father  felt  the  highest  respect  for  the 
girl  Emily,  and  had  never  treated  her  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  the  family  suspected  her  of  being  a  slave. 

"  Mr.  Brinsmade's  testimony  showed  that  William 
Le  Rux  did  not  believe  Judy  was  a  slave  ;  and  it  was 
evident  that  Jew  David  had  taken  advantage  of  the 


TRIAL    FOR   EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  447 

diseased  state  of  Mr.  Le  Rux's  mind  and  body,  to  in- 
duce him  to  sign  the  bill  of  sale,  and  that,  upon  subse- 
quent reflection,  the  rash  act  had  affected  the  sick  man 
so  seriously  as  to  hasten  his  death.  But,  unfortunately, 
the  person  who  heard  the  words  spoken  by  the  Jew,  and 
witnessed  the  manner  of  Mr.  Le  Rux  at  the  time  of,  and 
after,  his  written  statement,  was  a  slave  ;  and  therefore 
her  testimony  could  not  be  taken.  Jew  David  had  con- 
fessed that  he  seized  Emily,  knowing  her  to  be  the 
child  of  Judy,  who,  he  was  perfectly  aware,  had  been 
born  free. 

"  The  testimony  of  Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux,  as  given  by 
his  son,  also  corroborated  all  the  .other  testimony  ;  and 
it  was  weighty  of  itself.  It  was  the  dying  confession  of 
a  father;  and  the  court  would  doubtless  view  it  in  that 
light. 

"  But  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Willis  must  be  conclusive. 
He  had  even  produced  the  dying  confession  of  the  man 
who  had  taken  the  child  from  Jew  David,  immediately 
after  she  was  saved  from  the  ship.  What  testimony 
could  be  stronger?  This  man  had,  in  view  of  his 
guilt,  knowing  that  he  was  about  to  appear  before  his 
God,  called  upon  that  God  to  witness  the  truth  of  what 
he  was  saying.  The  testimony  of  one  of  the  witnesses  to 
that  confession  proved  that  such  confession  was  volun- 
tary on  the  part  of  Mr.  William  Le  Rux,  Senior.  It 
also  proved  the  clearness  of  his  mind  at  the  time.  This 
was  testimony  that  could  not  be  overlooked.  Other 
testimony  might  have  been  adduced ;  but  it  was  con- 
nected with  evidence  which  would  be  brought  forward 
upon  the  trial  of  Jew  David  for  murder ;  and,  as  what 
had  been  already  given  in  court  was  deemed  amply  suf- 
ficient, this  collateral  proof  was  withheld. 


448  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

"  It  is  a  principle  of  law,  where  doubt  exists  in  a  case, 
to  lean  to  the  side  of  mercy.  There  is  seemingly 
little  doubt  in  this  case ;  but,  if  any  remains,  it  is  con- 
fidently expected  that  the  decision  of  the  court  will 
lean  to  the  side  of  freedom." 

The  eloquent  advocate,  before  closing  his  remarks, 
said,  he  felt  "  called  upon  to  allude  briefly  to  Americus 
M.  Le  Roy,  the  grandfather  of  Emily  Le  Rux,  now 
claimed  by  Jew  David  as  a  slave,  and  on  trial  for  her 
freedom.  This  venerable  man,  who  had  been  present 
at  this  trial,  was  a  native  of  France,  and  one  of  her 
most  respectable  citizens.  He  was  deeply  interested  in 
the  result  of  this  trial,  as  would  be  shown. 

"  Many  years  ago,  his  bosom  companion,  and  his  only 
child,  in  company  with  his  wife's  brother,  were  wrecked 
on  the  American  coast.  They  had  gone  to  visit  a 
brother  in  America.  This  brother,  Albert  De  Wolfe, 
was  probably  well  remembered  by  many  persons  here 
present.  On  hearing  that  the  vessel  in  which  his  dear 
ones  sailed  had  been  lost,  Mr.  Le  Roy  visited  America, 
to  learn  their  fate.  He  could  ascertain  nothing  con- 
cerning them,  and  returned  to  France,  companionless 
and  childless.  He  had  lately  received  a  letter  from 
Edward  Le  Rux,  Senior,  written  just  before  death, 
informing  him  that  his  child  had  survived  the  wreck, 
and  had  been  held  by  his  father,  "William  Le  Rux,  Senior, 
as  a  slave.  He  further  stated,  that  he  (Edward)  eloped 
with  her  while  she  was  held  as  a  slave,  and  married  her ; 
that  she  was  the  mother  of  his  daughter,  Edith  Emily, 
now  claimed  by  Jew  David  as  a  slave  ;  and  the  writer 
begged  of  Mr.  Le  Roy  to  protect  his  grandchild. 

"  This  venerable  man  had  come  to  America,  to  claim 
and  rescue  the  girl.     And  now,  he  had  further  learned 


TRIAL   FOR   EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  449 

that  his  wife  and  her  brother  had  also  been  enslaved,  till 
death,  by  violence,  had  released  them  from  their  fetters. 

"  After  stating  these  facts,"  said  the  counsel,  "  I  wish 
to  propound  a  few  queries  to  the  court.  Will  the 
court  disappoint  all  the  new-born  hopes  of  this  vener- 
able citizen  of  France,  that  he  should  yet  be  able  to 
rescue  from  American  slavery  this  last  remnant  of  his 
family  ?  Shall  this  last  link  that  binds  his  aged,  gen- 
erous, wounded  heart  to  earth,  be  broken  by  a  decision 
that  she  '  owes  service'  to  Jew  David,  the  man  now 
under  arrest  for  murder  ?  Will  this  noble  citizen  of 
Paris  be  forced  home  again,  childless,  to  his  desolate 
and  plundered  habitation  ?  Must  he  leave  his  wealth 
to  strangers,  and  his  blood  become  extinct  in  his  nation? 
Must  his  gray  hairs  go  down  with  sorrow  to  the  grave, 
under  the  galling  thought  that  his  beloved  wife,  her 
brother,  his  only  child,  and  now  his  sweet  grandchild, 
Emily,  have  all  been  sacrificed  on  the  blood-stained 
altar  of  American  despotism?  Will  he  not,  in  his 
expiring  grief,  bid  his  countrymen  despise  and  shun  the 
republic  of  America,  on  account  of  the  shameful  truth, 
that  her  government  is  sustaining  the  cruelest  and  most 
degrading  tyranny  on  earth  ?  " 

Before  the  close  of  this  plea,  there  had  been  some 
disturbance  in  the  back  part  of  the  court-room.  The 
judge  had  not  yet  given  a  decision.  Many  of  the  spec- 
tators had  looked  threateningly  towards  Mr.  Le  Roy. 
He  was  overcome  with  the  scene,  and  left  the  room, 
leaning  upon  the  arm  of  Dr.  Willis. 

But  where  was  Edward  Le  Clare  ?  After  leaving 
the  court-house,  Frank  uttered  a  deep  groan,  and 
said,  "O  God!  my  friend  Edward  Le  Clare,  is  seized." 


450  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Dr.  Willis  turned  and  saw  an  officer  leading  the 
young  man  towards  the  jail.  « 

"  And  they  have  delivered  Emily  over  to  slavery," 
said  Dr.  Willis,  as  he  took  his  way  to  the  jail.  He  en- 
tered the  cell  of  Jew  David.  But  he  was  not  alone ; 
others  were  there  before  him,  and  the  Jew  maintained 
a  sullen  silence  towards  Dr.  Willis,  who,  feeling  ap- 
prehensive of  personal  violence  towards  himself  from 
those  present,  soon  left. 

Edward  Le  Clare  had  moved  through  those  streets 
with  his  head  erect,  calmness  on  his  brow,  and  a  man- 
ner and  bearing  which  caused  many  to  observe  him. 
"  He  a  slave  ?  "  said  Miss  Livingsworth  to  her  father, 
as  she  saw  the  youth  from  her  window.  "  I  have 
never  seen  a  more  perfect  gentleman." 

"  You  don't  know  much  of  the  world,  child,"  replied 
her  father.  "  I  must  take  you  to  travel  somewhere  else 
than  at  the  North." 

"  I  heard  something  at  the  North,  father,"  said  Minda, 
"  that  made  me  blush ;  and  I  would  have  blushed  ^ain, 
had  it  been  known  that  I  was  a  Southerner." 

"  Ah !  Minda,"  said  Livingsworth,  as  he  endeavored 
to  raise  his  arm  a  little,  "  what  did  you  hear,  of  such  a 
nature  as  that  ?  " 

"  I  heard  two  ladies  conversing  upon  slavery,"  said 
Minda.  "  I  heard  them  say  that  Southern  gentlemen 
sold  their  own  children  into  slavery,  and  that  some  of 
the  best  and  handsomest  slave-girls  at.  the  South  were 
their  masters'  children.  They  declared  that  we  might 
expect  the  judgment  of  God  upon  the  nation,  and  that 
the  Northern  people  would  submit  no  longer  to  be 
ruled  by  the  slave  power,  for  our  country  was  a  hissing 
and  a  by-word  among  other  nations.     And  they  read 


TRIAL   FOR   EMILY'S   FREEDOM.  451 

from  a  newspaper  a  speech  made  by  a  woman,  who 
had  been  a  slave.  It  made  me  blush  deeply ;  and  I 
think  this  slave  youth,  who  just  passed  our  door,  must 
be  one  of  that  class,  whose  father  is  selling  him.  I  am 
sure  I  should  not  want  such  a  father!" 

Mr.  Livingsworth's  face  became  very  red,  but  he 
said :  "  You  are  only  sixteen,  Minda.  You  will  not 
believe  all  you  hear  ladies  at  the  North  say  when  you 
are  twenty-one." 

"  "Well,  I  shall  keep  the  pledge  I  took  mentally  then," 
said  Minda. 

"  And  what  was  that  pledge  ?  " 

"  Never  to  marry  a  man  who  kept  slaves,  and  never 
to  hold  a  slave  myself,"  replied  the  generous  girl. 

"  And  you  will  break  that  promise  before  you  are 
twenty-one,  my  daughter." 

"  No,  father,"  said  the  young  girl  decidedly,  "  I  never 
shall  break  it ;  for,  while  you  were  gone,  and  left  me 
at  the  hotel,  I  accompanied  a  friend  to  an  anti-slavery 
lecture ;  and  the  lecturer  told  us  all  about  slavery." 

"  Oh !  anti-slavery  lecturers  at  the  North  cannot  be 
relied  upon,  —  they  tell  anything,"  responded  Livings- 
worth. 

"  Well,  this  one  told  a  great  many  things,  which  I 
know  are  true ;  and  I  am  half-convinced  that  all  he  told 
was  truth,"  said  Minda. 

"  Poh,  poh,  child ;  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about,"  was  the  slave-trader's  answer. 

The  counsel  in  behalf  of  Emily  took  an  appeal,  as 
did  also  that  of  Edward  Le  Clare,  alias  Edward  Le 
Rux. 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

THE  APPEAL,  AND  THE  SECOND  TRIAL  OF  EMILY 
FOR  FREEDOM. 

We  pass  over  the  events  of  some  weeks,  till  the  sec- 
ond trial  of  Emily  for  her  freedom. 

Dr.  Willis  was  the  first  witness  called  to  the  stand 
on  this  trial.  He  was  duly  sworn,  and  testified  before 
the  court  as  follows : 

"  I  and  my  wife,  and  two  children,  were  passengers 
on  board  the  ship  Gambia,  bound  from  France  to  New 
Orleans.  My  wife  was  of  Scotch  birth.  We  had  vis- 
ited Scotland,  England,  and  France,  and  set  sail  from 
the  latter  country  for  America.  During  a  severe  storm 
on  the  American  coast,  I  saw  a  lady  among  the  passen- 
gers —  whom  I  did  not  suppose  to  be  more  than  twen- 
ty-two years  of  age  —  take  a  bracelet  from  a  small 
trunk,  and  attach  it  strongly  to  a  child's  skirt.  She 
then  dressed  the  child  in  this  skirt. 

"  While  sitting  with  my  wife  and  children,  the  alarm 
was  given  that  the  vessel  was  sinking.  Not  more  than 
twenty  minutes  before,  the  captain  had  informed  me 
that  we  were  entering  the  harbor  in  safety.  Seizing 
my  children,  followed  by  my  wife,  I  reached  the  deck 
just  in  time  to  have  them  lowered  into  a  boat,  which 
already  contained  other  women  and  children,  and  two 
men.  I  was  about  entering  the  boat,  when  I  was 
pushed  aside,  and  instantly  another  man  jumped  into 

(452) 


THE   APPEAL    AND   SECOND   TRIAL.  453 

the  boat,  and  it  parted  from  the  vessel.  I  heard  one 
scream  from  the  persons  in  the  boat  before  I  lost  sight 
of  them. 

"  How  I  reached  the  shore  is  no  matter ;  but  I  will 
only  say  that  I  have  never  seen  my  wife  and  children 
since.  Several  days  after  the  wreck,  as  I  was  walking 
upon  the  shore,  hoping  that  I  might  find  something  of 
my  loved  ones,  I  saw  a  man  digging  from  the  sand  a 
small  trunk,  resembling  the  one  from  which  I  had  seen 
the  French  lady  take  the  bracelet.  I  was  desperate,  for 
I  had  lost  my  all;  and  I  recognized  the  man,  as  I 
thought,  who  pushed  me  aside  as  I  was  about  entering 
the  boat ;  and,  drawing  a  pistol,  I  rushed  on  him,  bid- 
ding him  answer,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  for  the  fate  of 
those  whom  he  had  taken  from  the  ship.  Without 
speaking  a  word,  he  dropped  the  trunk,  and  made  his 
escape.  I  followed,  but  1  did  not  fire  upon  him.  I 
was  thus  left  in  possession  of  the  trunk,  which  con- 
tained gold  to  a  large  amount.  I  made  every  effort  in 
my  power,  by  advertisement  and  inquiry,  to  find  the 
true  owner  of  the  trunk. 

"  It  was  some  three  years  after  this,  that  I  was  called 
into  the  family  of  William  Le  Rux,  Senior,  to  attend 
upon  his  son  Edward,  then  probably  about  ten  years 
old.  Here  I  saw  a  beautiful  and  exceedingly  interest- 
ing little  girl,  called  Judy,  probably  about  six  or  seven 
years  of  age,  a  slave.  From  the  moment  I  cast  my 
eyes  upon  her,  I  knew  that  she  was  a  pure  white  child, 
though  held  as  a  slave.  This  I  communicated  to  old 
nurse  Margaret,  who  had  charge  of  the  little  girl  and 
Edward.  She  said  that  she  had  felt  the  same  con- 
viction ever  since  the  child  was  brought  to  the  house ; 
and  that  a  trinket  was  attached  to  the  little  one's  skirt, 


454  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

which  might  help  to  find  her  mother.  She  exhibited 
to  me,  at  this  time,  a  valuable  bracelet.  Afterwards,  I 
did  all  in  my  power  to  elevate  Judy,  by  working  upon 
the  mind  of  Mrs.  Le  Rux.  I  contrived  to  inquire  after 
her  often,  and,  as  far  as  circumstances  would  allow, 
promoted  her  education  and  happiness. 

"  Judy,  at  last  became  the  lawful  wife  of  Edward  Le 
Rux.  I  was  a  witness  to  their  marriage  vows.  Ed- 
ward Le  Rux,  and  his  wife  Judy,  went  to  France.  To 
her  I  gave  the  trunk  containing  the  gold.  I  held  a  cor- 
respondence with  them,  down  to  the  period  of  the  death 
and  confession  of  William  Le  Rux,  Senior,  which  con- 
fession will  be  introduced  as  testimony  before  this  court. 
Soon  after  his  death  I  left  the  city.  I  returned  about 
two  years  since,  and  was  informed  by  Mr.  William  Le 
Rux  that  Emily,  or  Judy,  the  wife  of  Edward,  had  died, 
and  also  their  youngest  child,  a  son ;  and  that  Edward 
was  still  in  France,  with  his  daughter,  Edith  Emily. 

"  I  was  called  to  attend  Mr.  William  Le  Rux,  some 
months  since.  Then  he  revealed  to  me  that  Edward 
had  returned  from  France,  and  that  he  was  in  his 
house,  but  was  not  in  a  sound  state  of  mind,  and 
wished  not  to  meet  me.  He  also  stated  that  Emily, 
whom  I  saw  in  attendance  upon  him,  was  Edward's 
daughter  by  Judy,  as  he  called  her. 

"  It  was  not  more  than  two  months  since,  that  I  was 
called  to  attend  upon  a  patient,  in  a  remote  part  of 
this  city,  late  in  the  evening.  I  saw  two  suspicious- 
looking  men,  and  was  near  enough  to  hear  their  con- 
versation ;  and  I  heard  them  informed  by  a  third  per- 
son, who  had  joined  them,  that  Edward  Le  Rux  had 
returned  to  America,  and  was  then  with  his  daughter 
in  the  house  of  his  brother,  Mr.  William  Le  Rux.     To 


THE  APPEAL  AND  SECOND  TRIAL.        455 

my  great  astonishment,  I  also  heard  this  spy  declare 
that  Edward's  wife  and  son  were  then  living  at  the 
North.  Then  followed  a  conversation  in  regard  to 
money  loaned  to  Mr.  William  Le  Rux,  for  the  support 
of  Edward's  wife  and  son  at  the  North ;  and  the  plot 
was  laid  to  seize  the  girl  Emily,  to  secure  the  debt. 
My  name  was  also  mentioned ;  and  one  of  the  men 
said  that  I  took  from  him  the  trunk  containing  the  gold, 
that  he  had  got  from  the  wreck  of  the  Gambia ;  and 
that,  if  I  knew  the  girl's  mother  was  still  alive,  I  would 
be  likely  to  ferret  out  the  kidnapping  of  Mr.  Le  Roy's 
grandchild.  The  third  rogue  then  left;  but  the  two 
others  I  saw  enter  the  Jew's  quarters.  I  also  entered  it, 
and  confronted  them.  One  was  Jew  David.  He  was 
much  alarmed  when  I  told  him  I  knew  his  plans,  and 
pleaded  honesty.  But  I  was  convinced  there  was 
nothing  to  hope  for  from  the  good  faith  of  the  Jew ;  and 
I  made  arrangements  for  watching  all  his  movements. 
By  so  doing,  I  learned  that  Mr.  Edward  Le  Rux  had 
left  for  the  North,  whither  they  designed  to  follow  him, 
and  learn  for  themselves  the  residence  of  his  wife  and 
son.  I  also  learned  of  Moloch's  leaving  the  city  dis- 
guised as  a  peddler.  I  followed  him  to  the  North,  and 
spoke  a  word  in  his  ear,  which  made  him  tremble; -but 
not  until  he  had  pursued  Edward  Le  Rux  to  his  des- 
tination. 

"When  I  returned  to  this  city,  it  was  evening. 
I  felt  a  presentiment  of  something  wrong.  I  went  to 
the  Jews'  quarters — not  with  the  intention  of  entering 
the  house,  however,  but  for  observation.  On  the  way, 
I  encountered  Mr.  Battell,  who  informed  me  that  some 
one  had,  that  evening,  in  the  absence  of  Frank  Le  Rux, 
entered  the  house,  and  talked  to  Mr.  William  Le  Rux, 


456  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

v 
Frank's  father,  of  money  due  him ;  and  demanded  that 
he  should  put  his  name  to  a  paper — Mr.  Le  Rux 
being  confined  to  his  bed.  A  protracted  illness  had 
affected  that  gentleman's  mind.  His  rude  visitor  talked 
of  taking  the  girl  Emily  as  a  slave.  Mr.  Le  Rux  did 
sign  the  paper,  as  requested,  the  man  guiding  his  hand 
in  the  act.  The  manner  of  the  man  and  his  threat  to 
seize  Emily,  affected  Mr.  Le  Rux  so  intensely  as  to 
cause  his  death ;  and  his  beautiful  niece  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  This  man,  Mr.  Battell  said,  he  was  sure 
must  be  Jew  David. 

"  We  went  noiselessly  to  the  Jew's  quarters,  and  en- 
tered the  house  very  unceremoniously.  In  his  accus- 
tomed place  stood  the  old  Jew.  On  the  counter  lay  a 
pair  of  bracelets;  and  in  front  stood  a  young  man, 
having  a  box  containing  jewels.  His  countenance  was 
sad  and  troubled.  Beside  the  bracelets  lay  a  loaded 
pistol.  % 

"  I  took  up  the  bracelets,  Mr.  Battell  grasped  the 
pistol ;   and  the  latter  asked  David,  sternly,  where  he 

had  carried  Emily  Le  Rux,  whom  he  had  kidnapped. 
" '  Mine  God  in  heavens !  I  knowsh  nothing  about  de 

girl,'  replied  the  Jew,  though  his  face  turned  dreadfully 

pale.     '  I  ishreal  honest,  I  ish  just  a-going  to  show  Mr. 

Le  Rux  the  bracelets  as  was  his  mother's,  so  he  can 

prove  he  ish  no  slave.     I  ish  real  honest,  Dr.  Willis,' 

repeated  the  Jew. 

"  The  young  man  turned.     Never  shall  I  forget  his 

look,  as  he  asked :  '  Are  you  Dr.  Willis  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  I,  holing  fast  to  the  bracelets,  while 

Mr.  Battell  aimed  the  pistol  at  the  Jew. 

" '  Thank  heaven  ! '  ejaculated  the  young  man.  '  My 

name,  sir,  is  Edward  Le  Clare.     Are  you  the  gentle- 


THE  APPEAL  AND  SECOND  TKIAL.        457 

man  who  adopted  as  a  daughter  my  mother,  and  gave 
her  in  marriage  to  my  father,  Edward  Le  Rux  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,'  was  my  reply ;  '  but  where  is  that  mother  1 ' 

" '  She  is  dead ! ' 

" '  And  your  father,  who  went  North  ? ' 

u '  He  is  dead  also,'  replied  the  young  man,  as  he 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  letter,  and  handed  it  to  me." 

Here  Mr.  Brinsmade  presented  to  the  court  the  decoy 
letter,  to  Edward  Le  Clare,  from  the  Jew ;  and  Dr. 
Willis  continued :  "  We  left  the  Jew's  quarters,  taking 
with  us  the  bracelets.  Mr.  Battell  conducted  Edward 
Le  Clare  to  my  house,  while  I  took  steps  to  have 
officers  secure  the  person  of  Jew  David,  which  they  did 
by  pursuing  him  to  the  place  where  he  had  secreted 
Emily." 

The  bracelets,  of  which  Dr.  Willis  had  spoken,  were 
presented  for  the  inspection  of  the  court,  and  to  Mr. 
A.  M.  Le  Roy,  who  was  next  called.  He  swore  to 
their  identity,  as  having  belonged  to  Annette  E.  De 
Wolfe,  before  her  marriage  to  him.  The  initials 
engraved  on  the  bracelets  were  "  A.  E.  D.  W."  Mr. 
Le  Roy  also  testified  to  all  the  facts  relative  to  the  loss 
of  his  family,  as  stated  by  Emily's  counsel  on  the 
former  trial.  He  was  deeply  agitated,  and  said  he 
thanked  God  that  his  wife  and  her  brother  had,  so  soon 
after  their  imprisonment,  escaped,  even  by  a  violent 
death,  from  the  power  of  American  slavery !  He  said 
that  the  Marquis  De  Lafayette,  the  friend  and  com- 
panion of  his  father  and  of  the  father  of  his  murdered 
wife,  had  left  his  own  family  and  his  country,  risked 
his  life,  and  spent  his  fortune,  to  aid  the  American 
people  in  establishing  .freedom.  And  the  venerable 
man  then  asked,  in  a  voice  almost  choked  with  emotion, 

30 


458  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

if  he  was  now  reaping  the  legitimate  fruits  of  those 
sympathizing  labors. 

He  ceased  speaking ;  and,  overcome  by  his  feelings, 
sat  down,  and  wept  like  a  child.  A  sentiment  of 
humanity  entered  many  hearts,  and  some  of  the  spec- 
tators shed  tears  of  sympathy. 

In  the  progress  of  the  second  trial,  no  new  testimony 
was  adduced  by  the  plaintiff's  counsel.  In  the  plea  for 
the  freedom  of  Edward  and  Emily,  the  counsel  spoke 
long  and  eloquently,  and  was  listened  to  with  deep 
attention;  while,  in  the  most  impressive  manner,  he 
alluded  to  all  of  the  testimony  in  the  case,  showing 
conclusively  that  there  was  not  a  fact,  reason,  or  even 
a  circumstance,  connected  with  the  case,  to  show  that 
they  were  rightfully,  justly,  or  legally  enslaved,  or 
claimed  as  property.  He  remarked  briefly  on  the  only 
two  hypotheses  upon  which  a  human  being  could  pos- 
sibly be  enslaved. 

First,  he  argued,  by  nature,  every  human  being  is  free, 
by  virtue  of  the  will  of  God,  indicated  in  their  organ- 
ization ;  each  one  being  furnished  with  physical,  mental, 
and  moral  endowments  of  his  own,  as  a  whole  and 
perfect  individuality,  with  a  will  given  to  each,  to 
choose,  direct,  and  control  all  its  own  interests ;  with  a 
sense  of  accountability  to  its  Creator,  for  the  proper 
employment  of  all  its  powers:  thus  incontrovertibly 
showing  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Creator  that 
each  one  should  own  himself,  take  care  of,  and  control 
his  or  her  movements,  both  in  regard  to  the  physical, 
mental,  and  spiritual  actions.  On  the  contrary,  had  the 
Creator  intended  that  some  of  the  human  race  should 
be  owners  of  themselves,  and  also  owners  of  their 
neighbors,  as  property  —  others  not  owning  themselves, 


THE  APPEAL  AND  SECOND  TRIAL.        459 

but  being  simply  property  of  their  fellow  beings  —  he 
would  have  created  the  two  classes  perfectly  distinct  in 
their  nature  and  organization.  His  wisdom  would  have 
marked  each  one,  so  that  no  person  of  either  class  could 
possibly  make  a  mistake  as  to  his  own  character  and 
condition,  but  would  know  at  once  whether  he  was 
intended  as  a  master  or  slave  —  a  man  or  thing.  Now, 
every  person  knows  that  God  or  nature  has  marked 
him  as  a  master,  or  owner  at  least,  of  himself,  by  virtue 
of  his  organization :  thus  incontrovertibly  proving  that 
God  intended  no  human  being  to  become  a  slave,  or 
property,  having  created  no  one  without  qualifications 
to  take  charge  of  himself.  Consequently,  every  indi- 
vidual who  believes  in  the  justice  and  lawfulness  of 
human  slavery,  impeaches  God  as  a  great  idiot,  in 
creating  the  human  family  so  nearly  alike  that  they 
cannot  sort  themselves  out ;  but,  in  the  nature  of  the 
case,  have  to  fight  about  it,  and  murder  each  other  con- 
stantly, to  ascertain  which  persons  God  intended  for 
masters  and  which  for  slaves,  or  property.  And  so  little 
of  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  God  has  ever  been  man- 
ifested in  human  slavery,  that  a  man  is  looked  upon  as 
a  fool  who  does  not  know  that  there  is  not  now  in  exist- 
ence, nor  never  was,  a  slave,  excepting  such  poor  crea- 
tures as  have  been  robbed  of  their  birthright  to  them- 
selves, by  usurping  tyrants. 

The  counsel  said,  he  felt  a  blush  of  shame  come 
over  him,  at  the  thought  of  the  ignorance  and  wicked- 
ness that  forced  him  to  make  a  candid  and  serious  ar- 
gument on  a  point  so  plain  that  every  "  babe  in  the 
woods"  understood  it  perfectly,  without  any  instruction. 
He  remarked  that  every  one,  who  had  heard  the  testi- 
mony on  these  trials,  could  not  but  see  that  these  in- 


460  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

dividuals,  on  trial  for  their  freedom,  became  involved  in 
American  slavery  by  Jew  David's  kidnapping  a  free, 
innocent  French  child ;  and  they  were  justly  and  legally 
entitled  to  their  freedom,  and  to  all  the  immunities  and 
privileges  of  citizenship.  And  the  counsel  felt  assured 
that  the  court  would  so  decide. 

The  counsel  on  behalf  of  the  kidnappers,  made  a 
powerful  effort  at  brow-beating,  pompous  eloquence. 
He  said  that  his  opponent  was  taking  it  for  granted, 
that  nothing  would  or  could  be  said  in  favor  of  keeping 
these  persons  in  bondage ;  but  it  was  his  humble 
opinion  that  the  gentleman  would  learn  his  mistake,  as 
he  had  on  a  former  occasion.  He  said  he  had  but  a 
single  remark  to  make,  respecting  the  opposite  counsel's 
appeal  to  the  court  on  the  former  trial.  He  had  there 
stated  that  the  circumstances  under  which  the  vener- 
able and  wealthy  grandfather  of  these  slaves  found 
himself  were  exceedingly  trying;  consequently,  justice, 
mercy,  the  religion  of  Christ,  and  national  policy, 
demanded  that  the  slaves  be  given  up  to  their  kinsman, 
as  free.  Now  said  the  counsel,  in  an  insolent  tone : 
"  American  slaveholders  do  not  liberate  their  slaves  on 
any  such  grounds.  Our  slaveholding  legislators  and 
slaveholding  courts  know  their  interest  and  principles 
better  than  to  admit  any  such  pleas  or  appeals.  And  I 
would  have  the  gentleman  distinctly  understand,  that 
the  principles  of  human  slavery  were  not  founded  in 
justice,  mercy,  the  religion  of  Christ,  or  national 
policy ;  and  no  person  has  ever  heard  a  thorough,  in- 
telligent slaveholder  claiming  that  basis  for  slavery,  or 
anything  like  it.  We  simply  claim  that  human  slavery 
is  founded  in  human  expediency,  as  being  an  excellent 
order  of  things  for  the  master,  and  as  good  as  any 


THE  APPEAL  AND  SECOND  TRIAL.        461 

other  condition  of  society  for  the  slaves."  The  counsel 
said  that  those  who  sustained  the  system  on  any  other 
ground,  were  poor,  weak,  ignorant,  "  south-side,"  dough- 
faced,  whining  hypocrites,  and  were  not  thanked  for 
their  shallow  arguments,  and  their  canting  interference 
in  the  matter.  "  We  claim  that  human  wisdom  has 
adopted  the  system,  has  sustained  it,  and  is  able  to  do 
so,  and  to  '  sanctify  it '  into  the  bargain.  And  we  de- 
spise and  revile  any  '  higher  law ! ' " 

In  this  case,  he  claimed  that,  as  millions  are  in  slavery 
and  always  will  be,  it  might  as  well  be  the  wife,  daugh- 
ter, and  grandchildren  of  this  old  Frenchman  as  any- 
body else.  He  (the  counsel)  held  that  this  family  were 
subjected  to  the  "peculiar  institution"  of  slavery,  as 
politely,  honestly,  legitimately,  and  piously,  as  any 
human  beings  ever  were ;  and  that,  being  slaves,  it  was 
as  right  for  them  to  continue  so,  and  do  the  best  they 
could  for  their  masters,  as  for  any  of  the  millions  of 
slaves  who  have  preceded  them. 

The  defendant's  counsel  warned  the  court  against 
establishing  any  new  precedent.  He  said  these  slaves, 
like  all  other  slaves,  were  (except  those  originally  stolen) 
the  children  of  a  slave;  they  would  be  considered  at 
the  "  top  of  the  market,"  and  would  readily  bring  four 
thousand  dollars.  If  they  were  to  be  given  up,  as  free, 
he  would  like  to  be  informed  on  what  grounds  any 
persons  were  to  be  retained  as  slaves.  He  said  that 
doubtless  the  court  understood  the  law,  and  would  give 
a  decision  in  this  case  strictly  in  accordance  with  its 
technicalities. 

The  court  decided  that  Edward  Le  Clare,  alias  Ed- 
ward Le  Rux,  and  Edith  Emily  Le  Rux,  were,  accord- 

39* 


462  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

ing  to  law  and  testimony,  entitled  to  their  freedom,  and 
to  all  the  immunities  of  citizenship. 

Mr.  Le  Roy  raised  his  bowed  head,  as  the  decision 
was  given,  and  a  hopeful  and  thankful  expression  shone 
upon  his  countenance,  as  Edward  assisted  him  from 
the  court-room.  They  all  went  to  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Le  Rux,  with  Frank. 


CHAPTER     XLIV. 

UNION    OF    ALL    THE    FRIENDS,   AT    MRS.    LE    RUX's    HOUSE, 
AFTER    THE    TRIAL. 

Seated  in  the  parlor  of  the  Le  Rux  mansion,  were 
Mr.  Le  Roy,  Dr.  Willis,  Mr.  Brinsmade  (no  longer 
known  as  Mr.  Battell),  T.  Ewing,  Esq.,  one  of  Emily's 
able  counsel,  and  who  is  a  Northern  man,  of  about 
thirty  years  of  age ;  also  Frank,  Edward,  and  Emily 
Le  Rux.  But  where  are  poor  Fanny  and  Mariana,  to 
whom  Emily  had  communicated  hopes  of  freedom  ? 

The  conversation  seemed  to  have  turned  upon  the 
incidents  of  the  trial,  &c. 

"  Stricken  to  the  heart  as  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy, 
"  when,  during  the  trial,  I  reflected  on  the  generous 
patriotism  of  my  countryman,  the  Marquis  Lafayette, 
in  striving  to  plant  republican  institutions  and  politi- 
cal equality  in  America,  I  was  borne  away  with  him  in 
sympathetic  fervor  for  America,  and  for  some  time  lost 
myself,  and  forgot  the  wrongs  and  griefs  inflicted  on 
me  by  her  connivance.  I  found  myself  anxiously  try- 
ing to  devise  some  means  to  wipe  out  or  hide  this 
blood-stain  upon  her  character,  and  still  save  her  repu- 
tation, so  that  all  nations  might  not  be  forced  to  blush 
for  America. 

"  What  I  am  going  to  relate  had  such  an  effect 
upon  me,  that  I  beg  you  will  not  think  lightly  of  it. 
At  one  time,  while  my  head  was  bowed  down,  and  my 

(463) 


464  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

eyes  closed,  I  lost  all  knowledge  of  things  around  me. 
The  Marquis  de  Lafayette  stood  before  me,  as  lifelike 
as  when  I  last  saw  him.  He  laid  his  hand  impres- 
sively on  his  heart,  and  spoke  thus :  '  Americus  M. 
Le  Roy,  remember  those  who  are  in  bonds,  as  bound 
with  them.'  I  almost  started  to  my  feet  —  he  was 
gone.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Can  his  exalted  spirit 
wish  that  I  and  mine  should  still  cling  to  America, 
and  struggle  for  the  redemption  of  her  enslaved 
millions  ?  " 

All  appeared  struck  with  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Le 
Roy,  and  considered  it  a  sort  of  presentiment. 

"  I  am  constantly  thinking  of  Fanny,"  observed  Em- 
ily. "  It  is  almost  as  hard  for  Fanny  to  be  a  slave,  as  for 
me ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  she  is  as  much  entitled  to 
her  freedom  as  I  am  to  mine ;  and,  had  I  the  means  to 
purchase  her,  she  should  not  remain  a  slave  another 
hour." 

"  I  might  possibly  purchase  her,"  said  Dr.  Willis,  as 
he  seated  himself  by  her  side,  "  although  my  expendi- 
tures have  been  considerable  of  late,  and  I  find  my 
business  in  the  city  neglected  just  now.  But  it  is 
against  my  principle.  I  consider  that  it  would  be  a 
sin  for  me  to  pay  slaveholders  for  that  to  which  they 
have  no  just  claim.  Think  of  buying  from  one  human 
being  another  human  being ! " 

"  You  are  right,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy.  "  Had 
I  not  been  so  scrupulous  on  that  point,  I  would  have 
bought  my  own  blood  in  these  children,  and  returned  to 
France  ere  now ;  but  my  mind  so  revolted  at  the  un- 
just idea,  that  I  was  determined,  if  such  a  step  was 
taken  at  all,  it  should  be  only  as  a  last  resort ;  and  I 
sometimes  felt  that,  in  the  sight  of  God,  I  would  be 
more  justified  in  leaving  them  in  slavery,  and  returning 


A   FRIENDLY   GATHERING.  465 

without  them,  than  to  recognize  the  unholy  claims 
which  were  asserted  to  the  bodies  and  souls  of  my 
children." 

"  I  have  been  exceedingly  tried  upon  the  subject," 
said  Mr.  Brinsmade.  "  "When  I  first  saw  the  sin  of 
slavery  in  its  true  light,  I  felt  as  if  I  could  devote  my 
whole  life  to  earning  money  for  the  purchase  and 
emancipation  of  slaves.  But  I  soon  became  con- 
vinced that  it  would  serve  to  fasten  slavery  tighter  upon 
the  nation." 

"  But  is  there  not,  now  and  then,  an  exception  ? " 
asked  Emily. 

"  Well,  where  will  you  fix  a  limit  to  these  excep- 
tions ?  "  responded  Mr.  Brinsmade.  "  I  will  make  one 
exception,  Dr.  Willis  another,  Mr.  Le  Roy  two  excep- 
tions, Frank  ten,  and  no  doubt  Miss  Le  B-ux  would 
make  a  great  many  more,  and  so  to  an  infinite  ex- 
tent, all  over  the  North.  Every  philanthropist,  who 
could  spare  a  few  thousand  dollars,  would  make  one  or 
more  exceptions ;  and  in  a  short  time,  we  should  have 
a  flourishing  slave-trade  between  the  North  and  South. 
The  South,  if  black  ones  became  scarce,  would  even 
breed  white  slaves,  on  purpose  for  good  exceptions.  It 
would  soon  become  an  extra  stimulus  for  them  to  kidnap 
our  children,  that  they  might  sell  them  back  to  us  as 
slaves.  It  looks  to  me  like  the  Lord's  encouraging  the 
devil  to  entrap  all  the  sinners  he  can,  so  that  by  his 
grace  he  may  redeem  innumerable  hosts.  It  would 
destroy  all  God's  government  for  him  to  compromise 
with  the  devil;  so  it  also  destroys  freedom  for  the 
friends  of  freedom  to  compromise  with  slavery.  I 
have  seen,  here  at  the  South,  ministers  of  the  gospel, 
who  claimed  that  they  were  opposed  to  slavery ;  yet 
who  buy  men,  women,  and  children,  on  the  plea  of 


460  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

doing  the  slaves  a  kindness,  while  they  sanctioned  this 
enslavement.  I  have  noticed  also  that  such  men  usu- 
ally make  the  hardest  masters  ;  and  I  regard  such  pro- 
fessions as  the  sheerest  hypocrisy." 

"  Since  I  took  that  view  of  the  subject,"  said  Dr. 
Willis,  "  I  have  seen  those  held  as  slaves  for  whom  I 
felt  I  could  willingly  risk  my  life  to  secure  their  free- 
dom. But  I  never  could  acknowledge  the  tyrant's 
claim  to  them,  by  buying  from  him  their  freedom." 

"  Right,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade.  "  If  slavery  ever 
ceases  in  this  guilty  land,  it  will  be  by  making  no 
compromises  with  it.  It  must  be  met  on  its  own 
intrinsic  merits.  If  human  slavery  is  a  part  of  the  gos- 
pel of  Jesus  Christ,  to  redeem  men  from  sin,  as  claimed 
by  its  friends,  then  let  every  one  be  sure  to  obtain 
enough  of  it  to  save  their  guilty  souls.  And,  if  the 
poor  wicked  masters  cannot  get  their  share  of  this 
divine  blessing  otherwise,  the  slaves  should  change 
places  with  them,  half  the  time,  that  their  hard  hearts 
may  become  soft  and  tender,  under  its  holy  influence. 
But,  if  it  is  a  putrid  sacrifice,  placed  on  the  altar  of 
God  by  bold,  blaspheming  men,  then  let  it  become  not 
only  '  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  Jehovah,'  but  a  loath- 
ing to  all  nations  of  men.  Who  does  not  know  that 
the  assumptions  of  slavery  are  bold,  self-evident  false- 
hoods, and  cannot  stand  the  light  of  a  golden-rule 
gospel  one  moment  ?  On  what  ground  do  our  theo- 
logians expect  us  to  account  for  their  sanctioning 
human  slavery  ?  Will  they  have  us  to  understand  that 
their  minds  are  in  so  dark  and  ignorant  a  condition 
that  the  system  of  American  slavery  appears  to  them 
holy,  just,  and  good,  and  in  accordance  with  the 
golden  rule  of  Christ  ?     Or  will  they  admit  that  slavery 


A   FRIENDLY   GATHERING.  467 

is  the  sum  of  all  villanies,  and  then  support  it,  and 
force  us  to  the  conclusion  that  they  are  so  corrupt  at 
heart,  that  they  mean  to  sustain  it  at  all  hazards  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  despair,"  continued  the  good  physician, 
"  dark  as  the  prospect  seems.  Hideous  as  are  the  prin- 
ciples and  results  of  the  Compromise  Measures,  they 
will  soon  bring  about  their  own  overthrow,  by  blasphe- 
mously usurping  the  prerogatives  of  God  over  men. 
An  omnipotent  and  just  God  can  never  submit  to  be 
dethroned  from  his  supremacy  over  the  human  beings 
he  has  made,  by  slavery's  power  in  the  American  gov- 
ernment. Wicked  men  will  yet  compel  the  Almighty 
to  stand  on  the  defensive,  and,  by  his  just  indignation, 
teach  them  that  there  is  a  '  higher  law'  than  American 
slavery,  notwithstanding  their  constant  denial  of  it.  A 
little  more  light  among  the  people,  and  they  will  cease 
to  send  to  our  legislative  halls  those  wicked,  imbecile 
doughfaces,  who,  like  Esau,  are  ever  ready  to  sell  their 
God-given  birthrights,  for  one  sip  of  slavery  pottage." 
****** 

Emily  and  Edward  had  now  ample  time  to  commune 
with  each  other,  and  exchange  those  fond  endearments 
of  brother  and  sister,  from  which  they  had  so  long  been 
debarred. 

As  Dr.  Willis  visited  them  one  day,  he  rejoiced 
Emily's  heart  with  the  intelligence  that  Fanny,  for 
whom  she  had  sympathized  so  strongly,  was  among  the 
missing,  and  that  strict  search  had  been  made  for  her  in 
vain.  He  also  intimated  that,  if  the  girl  made  no 
delays,  she  would  be  safe  in  Canada  before  they  would 
find  her  track.  "  Fanny  has  money,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  to  help  her  after  her  arrival.  It  is  a  very  hard  year 
for  emigrants  in  Canada,  because  such  large  numbers, 


468  THE   CURSE  ENTAILED. 

who  were  in  flourishing  business  in  the  Northern  States, 
have  been  forced  to  sacrifice  their  property,  and  flee 
thither,  destitute,  from  dread  of  the  Fugitive  Act." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  cheering  from  Mariana  ?  " 
asked  Emily. 

"  All  has  been  done  for  her  that  can  be,"  replied  Dr. 
Willis,  "  until  after  the  trial  of  Jew  David.  Nehemiah 
will  be  a  very  important  witness  against  Jew  David. 
What  I  most  dread  is,  that  some  of  the  gang  will 
become  suspicious  of  him,  and  find  means  to  put  him 
out  of  the  way." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux,  of  whom  we  have  heard  nothing  since 
her  husband's  death,  was  now  loud  in  her  complaints 
about  the  loss  of  property.  She  was  much  affected  at 
the  death  of  her  husband,  and  Emily  thought  she 
evinced  more  hardness  than  usual. 

"  I  never  did  suspect,"  said  she  to  Emily,  in  the 
presence  of  Frank,  "  that  you  was  one  of  our  slaves. 
My  husband  had  always  kept  it  from  me  that 
Edward  married  a  slave.  Poor,  dear  man!  I  see, 
now,  he  was  altogether  too  lenient  to  your  father, 
and  also  too  indulgent' a  master.  I  find,  now,  that 
he  has  ruined  us.  I  hope  Frank  will  take  warning 
from  his  father's  mistakes,  and  become  a  man  at  once, 
and  endeavor  to  retrieve  what  his  father  has  lost.  I 
recollect  very  well,  that,  when  I  first  married  Mr.  Le 
Rux,  he  was  real  chicken-hearted,  and  often  said  there 
were  many  wrong  things  connected  with  slavery — such 
as  kidnapping  free  people,  and  whipping  slaves  to 
death.  But,  as  he  grew  older,  he  gave  up  some  of  his 
notions ;  and  I  hope  that  Frank  will  do  likewise.  I  am 
almost  worn  out  with  trouble ;  but,  if  there  is  any  one 
thing  I  desire  in  this  world,  it  is  to  have  a  plantation 


A  FRIENDLY  GATHERING.  469 

of  slaves  with  a  master,  who  is  not  afraid  to  do  as  my 
father  did.    And  I  want  such  an  overseer,  too,  as  he  had." 

"  Would  you  not  be  pleased,  aunt,  to  have  one  like 
him  who  died  with  the  cholera  ?  "  asked  Emily. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Le  Rux ;  "  he  did  very  well. 
But,  after  Julia  died,  and  the  cholera  came,  everything 
went  wrong.  In  fact,  from  the  time  Mr.  Le  Rux  gave 
Lucy  to  the  Bible  Society,  and  Frank  came  home  from 
the  North,  and  you  and  your  father  from  France,  I  did 
not  know  what  ailed  him ;  he  did  not  act  like  himself. 
But,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  am  convinced  that  it  was 
this  abolition  Infidelity  that  bothered  him ;  which  the 
clergyman  told  me,  yesterday,  was  '  all  the  work  of  the 
devil.'  But  he  exhorted  me  to  be  comforted,  in  view 
of  the  great  reward  which  was  laid  up  for  the  faithful, 
and  in  the  hope  of  meeting  my  dear  husband  in  a 
brighter  world,  and  hearing  it  said,  '  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant;  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy 
Lord.'  '  For,'  said  the  holy  man, '  hast  thou  not  fed  the 
hungry,  and  clothed  the  naked,  with  spiritual  blessings  ? 
Hast  thou  not  sent  to  the  heathen  the  bread  of  eternal 
life,  by  giving  of  thine  abundance  for  the  spread  of  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  —  who  said,  I  tell  you  that, 
inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these, 
my  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  me.' " 

These  remarks  were  made  in  Edward's  presence. 

Frank  groaned  in  spirit,  and  arose  and  walked  to  the 
window,  while  Emily  said :  "  How  much  sooner,  aunt, 
will  the  very  heathen  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  than 
those  who,  with  the  light  of  the  gospel,  preach  such 
doctrines  and  commit  such  deeds  as  slavery  enjoins ! " 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  silent,  and  Edward  inquired: 
"  Will  you  not  leave  these  scenes,  aunt  ?  I  must  return 
40 


470  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

to  the  North,  whither  my  grandfather  will  accompany 
me.  Go  with  us,  and  learn  the  true  precepts  of  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  for  the 
mind  to  become  thus  darkened,  both  by  precept  and 
example ;  and  he  who  thus  perverts  the  teachings  of 
Jesus  Christ  is  worse  than  an  Infidel." 

"  Mr.  Gregory  worse  than  an  Infidel,  do  you  mean  ?  " 
indignantly  retorted  Mrs.  Le  Rux.  "  He  is  doing  all 
in  his  power  to  put  down  Infidelity ;  which  he  says  is 
taking  almost  every  form  at  the  North,  even  imitating 
Christ,  in  many  things ;  and  it  was  for  that  he  came  to 
warn  me.  He  was  fearful  that  you  were  tinctured  with 
it,  as  you  were  doubtless  an  abolitionist,  and  that  class 

were  all  Infidels;  and  he  said  "      But  here  she 

glanced  at  Emily,  and  came  to  a  full  stop. 

"  Let  us  have,  aunt,  the  whole  of  his  holy  teach- 
ings," said  Emily. 

"  He  did  not  say  anything  about  7/ow,"  said  Mrs.  Le 
Rux;  "but  he  thought  it  would  be  much  better  for 
your  brother  to  be  given  over  to  slavery,  than  for  him  to 
propagate  abolition  doctrines.  He  was,  he  said,  doubt- 
less given  over  to  hardness  of  heart  and  blindness  of 
mind ;  and  that,  if  he  should  obtain  his  freedom,  he 
would,  no  doubt,  destroy  a  multitude  of  souls ;  for  he 
was  evidently  a  man  of  great  ability." 

"My  God!"  said  Edward,  "I  can  now  talk  of 
slavery  as  it  is  !  I  can  now  tell  a  xoorld  of  the  vile  acts, 
the  base  hypocrisy,  of  pro-slavery  ministers  of  the 
South.  For  I  have  heard  by  what  base  sophistries,  by 
what  blasphemous  teachings,  they  lead  on  the  votaries 
of  slavery!  Yet,  how  much  worse  are  they  than 
Northern  preachers  of  the  same  class  ?  But  will  not 
the  rising  generation,  will  not    the    young  sons    and 


A   FRIENDLY   GATHERING.  471 

daughters  of  this  beautiful  heritage,  free  themselves 
from  this  incubus,  which  hangs  so  heavily  upon  their 
minds  ?  Will  they  not  see  as  we  see  ?  Will  not  this 
beautiful  country  of  the  South  yet  bloom,  not  only 
with  nature's  beautiful  gifts,  but  with  men  and  women 
standing  forth,  armed  with  the  teachings  of  truth,  and 
prepared  to  bombard  the  stronghold  of  slavery  ?  Will 
they  not  yet  be  crowned  with  the  nobler  attributes 
which  shall  make  them  appreciate  themselves,  and 
lead  them  to  an  understanding  of  truth,  virtue,  and 
humanity  ?  Will  they  not  yet  acknowledge  the  truth 
of  God's  own  declaration,  that  *  He  hath  made  of  one 
blood  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  ? '  And  will  they 
not  understand  that  men  and  women  have  a  right  to 
themselves?  If  this  be  not  the  result,  will  not  the 
Lord  destroy  these  wicked  husbandmen,  and  let  the  vine- 
yard out  to  other  husbandmen?  I  cannot  comply  with 
the  wish  of  my  grandfather,  and  accompany  him  to 
France.  Here  in  America  must  I  labor ;  here  will  I  use 
my  pen,  my  tongue,  and  all  the  talents  God  has  given 
me,  to  aid  the  rising  generation  in  putting  off  the  yoke 
which  their  fathers  have  laid  so  heavily  upon  them." 

"  I  bless  the  Lord,"  said  Frank,  "that  he  has  touched 
your  heart  with  the  living  fire  of  holy  truth  from  off 
his  altar.  It  needs  but  for  the  young  to  see  as  I  have 
seen,  to  feel  as  I  have  felt,  and  they  would  suffer  as  I 
have  suffered.  They  would  feel  and  see  the  blighting 
effects  of  slavery  upon  the  soul!  They  would  look 
upon  their  parents  with  the  pity  and  shame  with  which 
I  have  looked  upon  mine,  when  I  beheld  them  in  their 
darkness.  They  would  see  their  blighted  intellects,  and 
they  would  not  rest  until  they  had  repented,  and  done 
works  l  meet  for  repentance.'     Let  us  work  together, 


472  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

my  dear  Edward,  —  my  more  than  brother.  Let  us 
never  speak  of  our  ancestors,  or  of  the  proud  family  of 
Le  Rux,  without  a  blush  mantling  our  cheeks,  until 
this  land  is  redeemed." 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

ella's  troubles. 

The  sudden  departure  of  Edward  Le  Clare  was 
mysterious   and  unaccountable  to    Mr.  Erskine   and 

Ella.     It  was  understood  in  C that  the  deceased 

stranger,  whose  remains  were  conveyed  to  the  grave, 
was  a  relative  of  Edward  Le  Clare.  But,  as  the  young 
man  did  not  remain  to  attend  the  funeral,  many  were 
the  conjectures  as  to  the  cause  of  his  departure.  Some 
thought  he  had  hastened  to  attend  to  pecuniary  matters, 
and  had  perhaps  become  heir  to  a  large  estate. 

But  Mr.  Erskine,  Ella,  Dr.  Freeman,  Mrs.  Wise,  and 
Richard  knew  that  the  deceased  was  the  father  of  Ed- 
ward Le  Clare  —  at  least,  they  were  convinced  such 
was  the  fact. 

Dr.  Freeman  did  not  forget  that  he  had  a  mission  to 
perform,  yet  he  dreaded  the  task ;  he  feared  the  effect 
upon  Ella.  In  many  things  she  had  proved  herself  a 
stoic ;  but  now  she  must  know  terrible  facts  which  were 
hard  to  be  borne.  The  doctor's  first  interview  was  with 
Mr.  Erskine.  The  shock  of  Edward's  history  upon  Mr. 
Erskine  was  like  a  thunderbolt ;  not  a  suspicion  of  the 
truth  had  ever  crossed  his  mind.  If  such  were  the  effect 
of  the  disclosures  on  the  strong  man,  what  might  they  be 
upon  the  ardent  and  sympathetic  EHa  ?  Mr.  Erskine 
agreed  with  Dr.  Freeman  that  the  truth  must  not  be 
withheld  from  her.  Both  were  convinced  that  she  loved 
40*  (473) 


474  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Edward  ardently.  Mr.  Erskine  had  looked  forward  to 
the  time  when  he  should  add  to  her  happiness,  by  be- 
stowing her  upon  Edward  Le  Clare  ;  and  to  his  own, 
by  receiving  him  as  a  son. 

Dr.  Freeman  found  Ella  in  the  garden,  and  saw  at  a 
glance  that  she  had  been  weeping.  She  made  an 
effort  to  appear  cheerful,  and  invited  the  doctor  to  enter 
the  house. 

"  Let  us  be  seated  here  upon  this  bench,"  said  he. 
"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  and  perhaps  we  shall 
be  less  liable  to  interruption  here  than  in  the  house." 

Ella  trembled  as  she  seated  herself.  All  the  terrible 
facts  respecting  Edward  were  told  her.  Ella  wept,  and 
the  land  physician  was  obliged  several  times  to  stop 
in  his  narration. 

"  I  have  not  been  mistaken,"  said  Ella ;  "  dire  fore- 
bodings have  haunted  me,  by  day  and  by  night,  since 
Edward's  departure.  Oh,  I  feel  this  is  more  than  I  can 
bear!" 

"  I  beg  you,  be  comforted,"  said  the  doctor,  alarmed 
at  her  wild  manner.  "  I  am  satisfied  that  Edward  Le 
Clare  will  never  bow  his  neck  to  the  yoke  of  American 
slavery,  and  that  no  human  power  will  be  able  to  sub- 
jugate him." 

Ella  shuddered :  she  was  thinking  of  the  horrid  story 
she  had  just  read,  about  the  shooting  of  a  fugitive 
in  Louisiana,  who  had  attempted  to  escape.  But,  at 
length,  she  moaned :  "  Oh !  there  can  be  no  chance  or 
hope  for  him,  even  were  he  here,  under  the  accursed 
Fugitive  Act!" 

Ella's  words  were  but  too  true.  Dr.  Freeman  knew 
not  what  to  reply,  and  he  was  silent. 

At  length,  Ella  said,  "  I  have  no  hope  !  " 


ELLA'S   TROUBLES.  475 

"Hope  thou  in  God,"  was  the  devout  reply;  "he 
is  stronger  than  men." 

Ella  was  alone  in  her  chamber.  Horrid  visions  of 
slavery  haunted  her.  At  one  moment  she  beheld  Ed- 
ward Le  Clare  surrounded  by  men,  who  were  endeav- 
oring to  fasten  heavy  gyves  upon  his  limbs ;  and  *then 
she  saw  him  flying  before  his  pursuers,  while  the  pistol 
was  raised  to  shoot  him  down.  "  Alas ! "  thought  Ella, 
"  I  could  have  borne  anything  but  this.  Had  Ed- 
ward Le  Clare  died  —  had  he  been  lost  in  the  raging 
ocean  —  had  any  accident  happened  to  him,  I  could 
have  borne  it  better  than  this ! " 

Edward  had  indeed  never  made  a  declaration  of  love 
to  her ;  but  she  felt  that  he  was  dearer  to  her  than  life. 
He  was  away,  she  knew  not  where ;  his  spirit  was  be- 
ing crushed;  his  heart  was  bleeding  in  the  iron  grasp  of 
slavery  —  and  she  could  not  fly  to  his  succor.  It  was 
terrible!  She  thought  of  his  sister  Edith  —  of  his 
heart-broken  mother — of  all  she  had  suffered  for  years, 
with  a  secret,  crushing  weight  at  her  heart.  Thus  was 
Ella  borne  along  with  the  tide  of  painful,  anxious 
thought.  She  resolved,  and  re-resolved,  that  she  would 
bear  her  grief  calmly  and  patiently  —  that  she  would 
hope.  But  the  next  minute  found  her  without  hope, 
and  overwhelmed  in  grief. 

Anxious  to  learn  all  she  could,  she  requested  permis- 
sion of  Dr.  Freeman  to  examine  the  papers  and  writ- 
ings of  Mrs.  Le  Clare.  Her  days  were  now  passed 
with  Mrs.  Wise,  and  most  of  her  time  in  the 
room  which  had  been  occupied  by  Mrs.  Le  Clare. 
While  examining  the  papers  of  Mrs.  Le  Clare,  Ella 
found  a  copy  of  the  extract  from  Edward  Le  Clare's 
Fourth  of  July  oration,  which  had  created  so  much  ex- 


476  THE    CUR3E    ENTAILED. 

citement  at  college,  among  his  pro-slavery  hearers,  on 
account  of  its  radicalism.  The  extract,  which  Edward 
had  sent  to  his  mother  for  her  perusal,  buoyed  up  the 

spirit  of  Ella  greatly  under  her  troubles : 

« 

"  Oar  star-spangled  banner  speaks  truth  as  it  waves  ; 
Its  stars  emblem  freemen,  its  stripes  emblem  slaves  ! 
But  when'truth  shall  conquer,  —  0  God,  hear  our  prayer !  — 
We  will  cleanse  out  the  stripes,  but  leave  the  stars  there. 
Ye  proud  sons  of  those  sires  who  gave  their  heart's  blood 
To  rescue  their  children  from  the  tyrant's  rod,  — 
Will  ye  leave  the  standard  your  fathers  did  rear  1 
To  the  demon  of  slavery  will  ye  crouch  down  in  fear  ? 
O  say,  ye  brave  freemen,  don't  ye  blush  for  shame 
To  behold  freedom  banished  from  this  land  of  her  fame  1 
Then  let  your  blush  redden,  till  your  heart  is  on  fire, 
And  each  feels  for  his  country  as  felt  his  old  sire. 
Yes  !  struggle  for  freedom  until  your  last  breath ; 
And,  should  ye  fall  martyrs,  ye '11  die  a  good  death ! 
If  Christ's  golden  rule  ye  keep  ever  in  sight, 
Ye  will  conquer  the  wrong ;  for  God 's  with  the  right ! 
Then  shall  our  war-eagle  be  changed  to  a  dove, 
And  our  fierce-noted  bugle  breathe  tones  but  of  love  ; 
While  anthems  of  freedom  shall  heavenward  swell, 
The  murmurs  of  tyrants  shall  sink  down  to  hell !  " 


Ella  spent  much  time  in  retirement,  and  her  father 
often  found  her  writing.  He  was  alarmed  for  her 
health,  for  she  became  an  invalid,  and  required  the  care 
of  Dr.  Freeman.  She  moved  about  mechanically, 
while  horrid  visions  of  slavery  haunted  her  day  and 
night,  so  that  she  took  no  interest  in  home  affairs.  Dr. 
Freeman  was  aware  that,  if  she  could  not  be  aroused 
to  action,  she  would  soon  sink  under  her  heavy  burden 
of  sorrow. 

"  Will  you  ride  with  me,  my  child  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ers- 
kine  of  her,  one  morning.     **  We  will  call  upon   Mrs. 


ELLA'S   TROUBLES.  477 

Wise,  and  look  at  your  garden.  Richard  may  feel 
himself  neglected  by  your  remaining  so  closely  in 
doors."  Ella  was  moved  by  her  father's  look  and  man- 
ner; still  she  hesitated. 

"  Yes,  Ella,"  said  Dr.  Freeman,  who  had  entered  un- 
perceived,  "  I  affirm  that  you  can  be  a  recluse  no 
longer.  I  called  yesterday,  and  looked  into  your  flower- 
garden.  The  plants  are  beginning  to  peep  out,  as  if 
they  expected  to  be  welcomed  by  your  smiles  ;  and  if 
you  do  not  visit  them,  they  will  droop,  or  perhaps  dis- 
appear altogether." 

Ella  did  not  smile,  or  seem  to  manifest  any  interest 
in  the  doctor's  playful  remarks. 

Mr.  Erskine's  countenance  fell,  and  he  hurriedly  left 
the  room. 

"  Sit  down  by  me,"  said  Dr.  Freeman  to  the  stricken 
girl.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  something  that  will  make 
you  the  same  dear  Ella  again  —  as  you  were  when  in 
the  good  graces  of  George  Brownson." 

Dr.  Freeman  watched  his  fair  patient  attentively  as 
he  spoke.  Instantly  her  countenance  assumed  a  look 
of  contempt.  "  The  good  graces  of  George  Brown- 
son  !  "  said  she  ;  "  a  contemptible  Union-saver." 

The  doctor  was  gratified,  and  said,  "  I  perceive 
that  there  is  one  man,  the  remembrance  of  whom  has 
power  to  make  you  blush  with  contempt." 

Ella  arose  indignantly,  while  the  blood  did  indeed 
mount  to  her  face. 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  said  the  doctor,  as  he  took  a  letter 
from  his  hat.  Ella  perceived  at  a  glance  that  it  was 
from  Edward  Le  Clare.  "  We  will  now  see  who  are 
likely  to  become  your  guests.  Here  is  Americus  Le 
Roy,  the  grandfather  of  Edward  Le  Clare,  from  France ; 


478  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

and  here  is  Miss  Emily  Le  Rux,  Edward's  sister ;  and 
Edward  Le  Rux,  himself — or,  perhaps,  you  will  prefer 
to  still  call  him  Le  Clare;  if  so,  I  will  favor  your 
opinion,  and  we  will  persuade  him  to  keep  his  former 
name.  You  will  learn  from  this  letter  that  they  pro- 
pose, on  their  route  here,  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Falls  of 
Niagara,  for  the  gratification  of  Mr.  Le  Roy.  Now, 
as  you  are  an  invalid,  Ella,  I  prescribe  that,  for  your 
health,  you  travel  with  your  father  to  the  Falls  and 
escort  them  here." 

Ella  smiled,  and  her  eye  kindled  up  with  something 
of  its  wonted  lustre. 

Mr.  Erskine,  who  had  re-entered  the  room,  seemed 

quite  elated  at  his  daughter's  manifest  improvement. 

****** 

"  I  did  n't  believe,"  said  James  to  Laura,  after  meet- 
ing Ella  with  her  smiling  face,  "  that  Ella  was  going 
to  die  so.  I  knew,  all  the  time,  that  it  was  something 
about  Edward  Le  Clare,  that  made  her  look  so  down- 
hearted. But,  now  that  he  is  coming  home,  she  looks 
as  bright  as  ever,  only  somewhat  pale." 

"  It  has  made  me  feel  very  bad,"  replied  Laura,  "  to 
see  Ella  walking  about  without  noticing  me,  as  she 
used  to ;  and,  when  I  spoke  to  her  about  the  work, 
she  'd  say,  '  Oh,  never  mind,  Laura  —  you  can  do  it 
just  as  you  please;'  and  likely  enough  I  would  see 
the  tears  start  to  her  eyes." 

Ella,  although  somewhat  of  an  invalid,  was  in  fine 
spirits,  and  spent  a  part  of  almost  every  day  with  Mrs. 
Wise  and  Richard,  devising  ways  and  means  to  make 
everything  in  and  around  the  house  look  pleasant  and 
comfortable.  Ella  also  took  rides,  with  her  father; 
visited  at  Nathan's ;  went  to  S ,  and  visited  Miss 


ELLA'S   TROUBLES.  479 

Olmstead ;  made  purchases  at  Mr.  Kent's  store ;  in 
fact,  was  as  busy  as  a  bee,  for  it  was  now  understood 
that  Ella  Erskine  was  to  go  to  Niagara  Falls,  to  meet 
Edward  Le  Clare,  on  his  return  home  with  his  sister 
from  the  South. 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 

FURTHER   DISCLOSURES. THE    TRIAL    OF    JEW    DAVID. 

"  When  does  the  trial  of  Jew  David  take  place  ?  " 
inquired  Emily  of  Dr.  Willis. 

"  In  about  two  weeks,"  was  the  reply.  "  Have  I  ever 
told  you  the  circumstances  in  relation  to  the  case  ? " 
Here  the  attention  of  all  in  the  room  was  called  to  the 
doctor,  and  he  said :  "  It  was  while  I  was  in  Texas, 
after  the  death  of  your  grandfather,  Mr.  William  Le 
Rux,  Senior,  that  I  filled  the  office  of  judge.  There 
was  brought  before  me  for  trial,  a  young  man,  accused 
of  murdering  a  traveller.  He  was  of  prepossessing  ap- 
pearance ;  but  circumstantial  evidence  was  strong 
against  him;  and  there  was  one  witness  who  swore 
positively  that  he  saw  him  commit  the  act.  That 
man,  although  he  gave  a  clear  testimony,  and  when 
cross-questioned,  answered  in  every  way  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  court,  yet  there  was  something  about 
him  which  did  not  appear  right.  I  sentenced  the 
young  man  to  prison  for  a  term  of  years. 

"  It  was  when  I  heard  Jew  David  and  others  convers- 
ing in  regard  to  Edward  and  his  mother  being  yet 
alive,  that  I  learned,  also,  that  Jew  David  and  Moloch 
committed  the  murder,  for  which  I  had  sentenced  the 
young  man  to  prison.  The  man  conversing  with 
David  and  Moloch  was  the  witness  who  swore  that  he 
saw  the  murder  committed  by  the  young  man.     I  told 

(480) 


TRIAL   OF  JEW  DAVID.  481 

the  Jew  that  I  knew  his  crimes.  He  was  evidently 
much  terrified ;  but  he  hoped  that  what  I  had  learned 
•would  not  be  sufficient  to  convict  him.  It  was  the 
name  of  the  convicted  man  that  I  pronounced  to  Mo- 
loch, which  made  him  tremble,  and  then  attempt  my 
life,  when  we  met  at  the  North.  That  prisoner  is  now 
in  my  house.  He  saw  the  murderer  give  the  blow,  as 
did  also  Nehemiah." 

"  How  mysterious,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy, "  that  so  many 
facts  should  have  been  elicited  and  ascertained  through 
you ! " 

"  How  providential ! "  cried  Emilys 

"  From  the  hour  of  the  wreck  of  the  vessel  that  con- 
tained our  families,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  have  ever  been 
endeavoring  to  trace  out  the  fate  of  those  who  left  the 
sinking  ship  in  that  boat.  When  I  saw  little  Judy  in 
the  family  of  Mr.  William  Le  Rux,  and  the  bracelet 
which  Margaret  found,  I  believed  her  to  be  the  child  to 
whose  clothes  I  saw  the  lady  on  board  the  ship  attach 
a  bracelet.  But  she  was  a  French  woman,  and  I  did 
not  know  her  name.  In  three  months  after,  I  left  the 
city,  and  went  North,  and  was  absent  one  year." 

"  And  that  accounts,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  "  for  my 
not  meeting  you,  on  my  visit  to  America ;  for,  had  you 
been  in  the  city,  you  would  doubtless  have  heard  of  my 
inquiries  concerning  my  wife  and  child." 

"  And  it  is  strange  to  me,"  said  Dr.  Willis,  "  that  you 
did  not  see  the  advertisements  in  regard  to  the  trunk 
which  contained  the  gold." 

"  At  that  time,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy  (addressing  Emily), 
"  I  took  home  with  me  a  child  —  a  girl  about  one  year 
younger  than  my  own." 
41 


482  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

**  And  who  gave  you  that  child  ?  "  said  Dr.  Willis, 
eagerly. 

Here  Mr.  Le  Roy  stated  the  circumstances,  as  they 
were  related  by  Edward  Le  Rux  to  Edward  Le  Clare, 
before  his  death.  He  also  described  the  man  who  left 
the  child  with  him,  as  nearly  as  he  could  recollect. 

Dr.  Willis  arose,  and  walked  the  room  for  several 
minutes.  At  length  he  said,  "  It  was  —  it  must  have 
been  my  Florence.    She  had  blue  eyes,  you  say  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  that  child  you  protected  ?  " 

"  That  child,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  "  I  took  with  me  to 
France.  These  hands  fed  her ;  and,  with  the  assistance 
of  a  kind-hearted  Irishman,  I  acted  the  part  of  a  nurse 
to  her  on  the  passage.  That  child  I  received  to  my 
bosom,  as  I  would  have  done  my  own  Annette ;  and 
she  never  knew,  to  the  day  of  her  death,  that  she  was 
not  my  own  daughter." 

"  Never  knew ! "  said  Dr.  Willis.  "  Then  she  is 
dead ! " 

"  She  became  the  second  wife  of  Mr.  Edward  Le 
Rux,"  explained  Mr.  Le  Roy,  "  after  his  return  to 
France  —  having,  in  this  country,  as  he  said,  buried  his 
wife.     And  she  never  knew  the  deception." 

"  And  she  was  my  stepmother,"  said  Emily,  burst- 
ing into  tears,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 
"  And  I  too  believed  that  my  mother  was  dead.  O 
my  father ! "  exclaimed  she,  as  the  tears  coursed  down 
her  face. 

"  I  trust  that  he  was  forgiven,"  said  Edward,  as  he 
led  his  sister  from  the  room. 

It  was  some  time  before  Dr.  Willis  could  command 
himself  sufficiently  to  speak.     At  length  he  said :  "  I  am 


TRIAL    OF   JEW   DAVID.  483 

convinced  that  your  Annette  was  my  child.  O  Ed- 
ward Le  Rux!  But  thou  hast  met  both  the  betrayed 
ones  in  eternity." 

Emily  re-entered  the  room,  and  informed  them  of 
what  Mariana  had  revealed  concerning  Jew  David's 
transactions,  the  night  on  which  he  took  away  her 
child.  She  also  exhibited  the  paper  which  Mariana 
had  given  her,  on  which  was  written  the  names :  Mr. 
Le  Roy,  of  France,  and  Mr.  Le  Rux,  of  New  Orleans. 

But  Edward  had  been  too  fast  in  writing  to  Dr. 
Freeman,  that  Emily  would  accompany  them  to  the 
North ;  for  she  positively  refused  to  leave  the  South 
until  after  the  trial  of  Jew  David.  Frank  also  wished 
to  go  North ;  but  he  found  it  impossible  to  do  so  at 
present,  and  he  was  much  gratified  at  Emily's  decision. 

Mr.  Le  Roy  intended  to  remain  some  months  in 
America  with  Edward,  and  Emily  would  join  them  as 
soon  as  possible.  Mr.  Brinsmade  would  also  remain 
with  Dr.  Willis,  until  his  affairs  could  be  arranged, 
when  he  and  Dr.  Willis  purposed  leaving  the  South. 

"  I  leave  this  Southern  clime,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  at 
parting  with  Dr.  Willis,  "with  feelings,  which  it 
would  be  mockery  for  me  to  attempt  to  describe.  Let 
those  who  desire  to  know  what  American  slavery  is, 
visit  this  Southern  metropolis.  Mine  —  all  which  re- 
main of  mine  —  are  free!"  said  he,  as  his  voice  choked 
with  deep  feeling.  "  But  the  wound  in  my  heart  is 
still  bleeding ;  and  there  is  not  a  chain  which  I  have 
seen,  or  a  groan  which  I  have  heard,  since  coming  to 
this  place,  but  has  driven  the  blood  from  my  heart,  to 
curdle  and  freeze  in  my  veins  !  I  shall  never  cease  to 
deeply  sympathize  with  all  in  bondage,  as  bound  with 
them.     I  shall  never  cease  to  hear  the  clanking  fetters, 


484  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

to  see  the  desponding  faces.  You  and  I  can  sympa- 
thize with  this  down-trodden  people,  not  only  because 
we  are  men,  but  because  we  have  been  stricken  by  the 
same  dire  despotism!  I  have  watched  narrowly  the 
slaves  whom  I  have  seen  in  these  streets ;  nor  do  I  be- 
lieve that  I  loved  my  Annette,  or  that  you  loved  your 
Florence,  better  than  do  the  sable  fathers  and  mothers 
their  little  ones,  whom  I  have  seen  torn  from  them 
here.  But  America  is  falling!  Well  did  Gen.  Lafay- 
ette say  to  me,  that  she  is  sinking  under  the  despotism 
of  slavery;  that  'America  is  nursing  a  viper  in  her 
bosom  that  will  bring  her  to  dissolution ! '  " 


CHAPTER     XLVII. 


EDWARD    LE    CLARE    RETURNS    TO    C- 


At  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  Ella  and  heir  father  met 
only  Mr.  Le  Roy  and  Edward  Le  Clare.  Mr.  Le 
Roy's  anticipations  were  fully  realized,  while  viewing 
the  sublime  grandeur  of  the  mighty  cataract.  Edward 
and  Ella  sought  out  and  viewed  every  scene  con- 
nected with  this  now  far-famed  resort.  The  inspiration 
they  yielded  to  during  their  pleasant  walks  and  won- 
derful views  I  shall  not  venture  to  disclose. 

After  the  return  of  the  party  to  C ,  Ella  often 

rode  over  to  her  cottage  with  her  father ;  and  was  some- 
times seen  chatting  half  an  hour  or  so  with  Edward, 
and  performing  many  kindly  offices  for  Mr.  Le  Roy, 
while  he  talked  to  her  about  France.  But  Edward's  vis- 
its were  becoming  much  more  frequent  at  Mr.  Erskine's 
than  Ella's  at  Mr.  Le  Rux's,  as  his  home  was  now 
called.  Edward  and  Ella  also  rode  and  walked  to- 
gether. They  sometimes  seated  themselves  under  the 
tree,  where  they  had  so  often  sat  with  Mrs.  Le  Clare. 
It  was  here  that  Edward  narrated  to  Ella,  the  occur- 
rences at  the  South.  He  told  her  his  feelings,  from  the 
time  he  left  her  until  his  return.  It  was  here,  also, 
that  he  avowed  his  affection,  and  asked  and  obtained 
the  promise  of  her  hand  at  some  future  time. 

"  How  are  you  to  pay  Edward  the  five  hundred  dol- 

41*  (485) 


486  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

lars  ?  "  said  Dr.  Freeman  to  Ella,  one  day,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  father  and  Mr.  Le  Roy. 

Ella  blushed,  and  Mr.  Le  Roy  insisted  upon  an  ex- 
planation why  Ella  should  be  in  debt  to  Edward. 

Dr.  Freeman  was  determined  that  Ella  should  have 
all  the  praise  she  deserved ;  and  he  commenced  a  reci- 
tal of  the  facts  in  regard  to  the  property  left  by  Mrs. 
Le  Clare.  But,  before  he  had  proceeded  far,  Ella  had 
disappeared  from  the  room. 

"  She  is  a  dear  good  girl,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  to  Mr. 
Erskine ;  "  and  I  must  congratulate  you  upon  having 
such  a  daughter.     Has  she  a  mother  living  ?  " 

"  Her  mother  died  when  she  was  but  twelve  years  of 
age,"  replied  Mr.  Erskine.  "  My  sister,  a  maiden  lady, 
then  took  charge  of  her,  until  she  likewise  died,  about 
two  years  since." 

"  She  is  a  treasure,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy ;  "  and  I  have 
also  a  treasure  in  my  Emily.  Were  it  not  for  her,  and 
Edward,  whom  I  also  feel  will  prove  a  blessing,  I 
would  care  but  little  how  soon  my  spirit  took  its  flight 
from  earth  —  how  soon  this  frail  tenement  of  clay, 
were  resting  beside  the  body  of  my  child  in  yonder 
spot,  that  I  visited  yesterday,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of 
Edward.  Yes,"  repeated  the  old  man,  "were  it  not 
for  them,  I  would  never  brave  the  treacherous  deep 
again." 

"  That  I  trust  you  will  not  do  now,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  You  will  have  to  live  in  America ;  for  we  are  only 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  Emily  and  Frank,  to  unite 
Edward  and  Ella." 

"Live  in  America!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Le  Roy;  "live in 
this  land  of  blood ! "  and  he  evidently  shuddered  at  the 
thought.     "  No ! "  continued  he,  "  Go,  all  of  you,  with 


EDWARD'S   RETURN  HOME.  487 

me  to  France.  I  have  enough  for  all.  Edward,"  said 
he,  as  the  young  man  entered  the  room,  "  you  will  not 
stay  in  this  country.  Take  Ella,  for  she  is  worthy  of 
you ;  but  go  with  me  to  a  land,  which,  although  it  has 
faults,  has  not  the  sin  and  stain  of  human  slavery 
within  all  its  borders !  Go  with  me,  and  escape  the 
curse  which  will  as  surely  come  upon  America  as  there 
is  a  God !  There  can  be  no  safety  here,  for  slavery 
chains  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body.  It  was  here  that 
Albert  De  Wolfe,  the  friend  of  my  youth,  whom  I 
loved  for  his  many  virtues,  the  brother  of  my  Annette, 
lost  his  manhood,  and  became  a  brute !  I  knew  it  by 
his  letters  ;  but  why  was  I  not  thus  warned  ?  Oh,  why 
did  I  trust  my  Annette  to  come  to  these  shores  ?  Oh ! 
why  has  the  curse  fallen  so  heavily  upon  me  and  mine  ? 
Alas !  alas ! "  cried  the  old  man,  "  I  cannot  forget, 
neither  would  I.  Let  it  ever  be  fresh  in  my  mind. 
I  wish  still  to  remember  my  wife,  as  she  was  when  she 
plighted  herself  to  me  —  when  she  stood  with  me  at  the 
altar  —  when  she  left  me  for  America.  I  wish  yet  to 
feel  the  last  kiss  which  she  imprinted  upon  my  face,  as 
she  said, '  Good-by,  my  dear  Americus.'  " 


CHAPTER     XLVIII. 

TRIAL    OF     THE    JEW. 

Jew  David  was  at  length  brought  before  the  court, 
to  be  tried  for  murder. 

Mr.  Jameson  testified  as  follows :  "  I  was  on  my  re- 
turn from  visiting  an  uncle,  when  I  fell  in  with  another 
traveller;  and  we  pursued  our  journey  together.  We 
had  been  in  company  three  days,  when  we  stopped  one 
night  at  a  place  of  entertainment,  intending  to  pass  the 
night.  During  the  evening,  we  became  alarmed,  as 
there  appeared  to  be  a  banditti  occupying  a  part  of  the 
house,  from  whom  we  heard  oath  after  oath,  and 
such  boisterous  manifestations  that  we  consulted  the 
landlord  about  leaving  the  house.  He  informed  us,  that 
he  had  unfortunately  a  lawless  set  of  men  stopping 
with  him,  whom  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  control.  He 
said  it  would  be  sure  destruction  for  himself  and  family 
to  attempt  to  dictate,  or  interfere  with  them,  adding, 
that  he  knew  we  were  in  danger ;  but  that  he  had  a 
young  man  living  with  him,  whom  he  could  trust,  and 
who  would  guide  us  by  a  short  route  to  a  place  of  safety. 

"  We  decided  to  go,  and  the  man  came  forward,  and 
conducted  us  from  the  house.  The  landlord  had  in- 
formed us  that  it  was  four  miles  to  the  other  house,  by 
the  road ;  but  that  the  young  man  could,  by  going  two 
miles  through  the  woods,  lead  us  there. 

"  After  we  had  left  the  main  road,  our   conductor 

(488) 


! 


TBIAL   OP  JEW   DAVID.  489 

seemed  to  be  disconcerted.  He  stopped  often,  and 
acted  as  though  afraid,  giving  no  answer  to  our  ques- 
tions, except  by  signs.  We  at  last  became  so  alarmed, 
that  my  fellow-traveller  halted  and  listened ;  then  drew 
his  pistols,  and  turned  toward  the  place  from  whence 
came  sounds. 

"  At  that  instant,  the  moon  shone  out  bright  from  be- 
hind a  cloud.  Immediately,  I  heard  the  report  of  a 
gun,  and  my  fellow-traveller  fell  to  the  ground.  I 
sprang  to  seize  the  pistol  which  he  had  dropped,  for  the 
purpose  of  defending  myself,  as  I  was  unarmed.  Be- 
fore I  had  time  for  defence,  I  received  a  blow  upon  the 
head  that  brought  me  to  the  earth ;  the  murderers  were 
upon  me,  and,  in  the  struggle,  the  pistol  was  discharged, 
the  contents  passing  through  my  hand. 

"  Our  conductor  now  closed  in  with  one  of  the  mur- 
derers, and  I  was  liberated  from  his  grasp.  The  ruf- 
fians soon  turned  from  the  young  man,  and,  as  I  per- 
ceived they  were  approaching  me,  I  fled.  I  succeeded 
in  eluding  them,  and  spent  a  night  in  the  woods.  By 
tearing  my  garments,  I  made  bandages  and  bound  up 
my  hand,  as  well  as  I  could,  partially  stopping  the 
effusion  of  blood. 

"  Next  morning,  I  reached  the  tavern  which  I  had  left, 
and  found  myself  weak,  and  covered  with  blood. 
People  were  collected,  and  I  was  instantly  arrested 
upon  charge  of  murdering  my  travelling  companion. 

"  At  my  trial,  the  real  murderer  appeared,  and  so  per- 
verted the  testimony,  that  I  was  convicted  of  murder  in 
the  second  degree." 

The  next  witness  brought  forward  by  the  prosecution 
was  Nehemiah.  He  testified  that,  on  the  night  of  the 
murder,  he  was  at  the  tavern  alluded  to ;  also,  that  he 


490  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

was  the  young  man  employed  by  the  landlord  to  con- 
duct the  travellers  to  a  place  of  safety.  "  Being 
acquainted  with  the  character  of  the  banditti,  and  un- 
derstanding the  condition  of  the  strangers,"  said  Ne- 
hemiah,  "  I  was  suspicious  of  foul  play  from  the  first, 
and  felt  anxious  for  their  fate.  My  anxiety  created 
suspicion  in  the  travellers.  They  had  halted  for  an  ex- 
planation ;  and,  at  the  discharge  of  a  gun  near  by  us, 
one  of  the  travellers  fell  dead.  Jew  David,  immediate- 
ly rushing  forward,  dealt  a  blow  that  felled  the  other. 
Then,  as  they  were  struggling  to  overcome  the  tra- 
veller, I  interfered  in  such  a  manner  that  he  escaped. 
But  the  interference  cost  me  all  but  my  life;  I  was 
knocked  down,  bound,  and  so  beaten  that  one  of  my 
arms  required  amputation." 

Nehemiah  swore  to  the  identity  of  the  man,  who 
was  Jew  David,  and  who  shot  the  traveller.  On  the 
cross-examination,  he  was  called  upon  to  explain  how 
he  became  acquainted  with  Jew  David  and  the  bandits, 
and  why  he  did  not  expose  them  at  once,  and  save  the 
travellers  from  falling  into  their  hands.  He  said,  from 
his  infancy,  he  had  been  wholly  in  their  power.  Jew 
David  had  stolen  him  from  his  connections,  and  he 
never  knew  a  relative  or  friend  in  the  world.  The  rob- 
bers told  him  that  they  had  friends  everywhere;  and 
that  he  could  not  escape  them  with  his  life,  if  he  ex- 
posed their  doings,  or  was  disobedient  to  their  will.  He 
said  that,  from  childhood,  they  had  made  him  go  on 
errands,  and  obtain  information — serving  them  as  a 
spy.  When  out  as  a  spy,  or  on  errands,  they  had  forced 
him,  by  threats,  to  say  nothing,  but  to  act  as  though 
he  was  deaf  and  dumb. 

The  trial  resulted  in  the  conviction  of  Jew  David, 


TRIAL    OF   JEW   DAVID.  491 

and  his  sentence  to  be  hanged  by  the  neck,  until  he  was 
dead.  A  dogged  despair  now  took  possession  of  his 
countenance  ;  but,  befora  he  left  the  court-room,  he  said 
to  Dr.  Willis,  "  I  ish  revenged  on  you,  even  if  I  ish  to 
be  hanged."  Then,  with  a  fiend-like  grin  at  Dr.  Willis, 
and  pointing  with  his  finger  toward  Nehemiah,  he  said : 
"  I  ish  revenged  on  you  —  I  ruined  Nehemiah.  Live,* 
Dr.  Willish,  and  look  upon  your  son,  whom  I  have 
poisoned !  Take  him  home,  now,"  chuckled  he, — "  ha ! 
ha !  ha !     Ish  he  not  a  fine  shentleman  ?  " 

"  How  ? "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  in  amazement. 
"  Where,  then,  is  my  wife  ?  —  where  my  Florence  ? 
Tell  me  instantly,"  said  the  doctor. 

The  Jew  mocked  him,  by  his  sneering  look  and 
laugh,  but  did  not  answer. 

"  Speak,  if  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade,  observ- 
ing the  agony  which  was  portrayed  in  every  lineament 
of  Dr.  Willis'  face. 

The  Jew  still  laughed,  as  he  again  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
Dr.  Willis. 

"  Answer  him,"  said  the  judge,  "  if  you  know ;  you 
will  be  no  loser."  The  judge  had  become  excited  by 
the  bravado  of  the  Jew,  and  by  the  anxiety  which  was 
manifested  by  Dr.  Willis. 

The  Jew  now  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direction  where 
were  congregated  a  class  of  men,  whom,  from  their  ap- 
pearance, might  have  been  taken  for  outlaws.  He  saw 
them,  one  after  another,  make  their  way  from  the  room. 
He  then  said,  with  a  fiendish  look :  "  Your  wife  I  saw 
sink,  and  de  watersh  close  over  her.  Your  daughter  I 
givesh  to  de  Frenchman  on  de  vessel,  who,  if  he  wash  not 
a  fool,  dropt  her  into  the  seas.  And  dat  ish  your  son  — 
your  only  son,"  said  he,  again  pointing  to  Nehemiah. 


492  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

The  doctor  now  approached  Nehemiah,  and  sought 
for  a  particular  mark  upon  his  body. 

0  It  is !  it  is ! "  cried  he.  "  Oh !  my  God,  it  is  my 
only  son,  Horatio !     The  children  were  twins." 

"  He  ish  a  murderer,"  said  the  Jew,  "  and  he  ish  a 
robber ;  and  he  ish  everyting  dat  I  hash  told  him  to  be." 

"  You  are  a  liar ! "  said  Nehemiah,  drawing  near  the 
Jew.  "  I  am  not  wicked,  though  you  have  tried  to 
make  me  so.  But  I  have  saved  many  from  being  mur- 
dered by  you,  when  you  sent  me  out  as  a  spy,  by  warn- 
ing them  of  their  danger." 

The  Jew  gnashed  his  teeth  at  the  heroic  man. 

There  was  now  great  confusion  in  the  court-room  ; 
while  Dr.  Willis  turned  and  said,  "  Come  with  me,  my 
son."  Then  Dr.  Willis,  Mr.  Brinsmade,  and  Horatio 
departed. 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 


SUICIDE    OP    MR.    DEVONY. 


"  Did  you  comply  with  my  request  ? "  asked  Dr. 
Willis  one  day  of  Emily,  "  and  commit  to  paper  the 
circumstances  which  came  to  your  knowledge,  in  regard 
to  Julia  De  Wolfe?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Emily.  She  left  the  room,  and 
soon  returned  with  two  sealed  papers,  which  she  handed 
to  Dr.  Willis. 

"  It  is  well,"  replied  he,  after  perusing  them.  "  I  am 
glad  that  Julia  made  such  a  disposal  of  her  property. 
But  I  fear  Devony  is  a  ruined  man,  and  that  nothing 
can  be  obtained  from  him.  However,  the  suit  will  show 
his  villany ;  and  I  have  employed  Esquire  Erving  as 
counsel  in  this  case." 

When  the  time  arrived  for  the  trial,  the  defence  was, 
that  Julia  De  Wolfe  died  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Devony ; 
consequently,  all  that  Emily  pretended  to  know  of  her 
was  false.  Mr.  Devony  appeared  unconcerned,  but  he 
turned  away  from  the  eye  of  Dr.  Willis.  There  were 
also  present  in  court  Emily  and  Frank  Le  Rux.  Mr. 
Devony  swore,  without  any  hesitation,  that  Julia  De 
Wolfe  died  in  his  own  family. 

Frank  Le  Rux  was  placed  upon  the  witness-stand. 
He  gave  a  full  account  of  his  father's  purchasing  Julia 
De  Wolfe  of  Mr.  Devony,  and  of  her  death,  and  what 
she  had  said  in  regard  to  herself  and  the  property. 
42  (493) 


494  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  demanded  a  bill  of  sale 
of  the  girl  to  Mr.  Le  Rux.  This  could  not  be  pro- 
duced. 

Emily  Le  Rux  was  then  called.  She  corroborated 
the  testimony  of  Frank.  She  also  delivered  to  the  court 
the  Bible  given  her  by  Julia,  as  well  as  the  picture  of 
Albert  De  Wolfe,  her  father.  Devony  trembled  and 
turned  pale,  when  Mr.  Erving,  the  counsel,  took  the 
Bible,  and  read  aloud  from  the  blank  leaf  what  had 
been  written  by  Mrs.  Devony. 

But  this  was  not  all  he  had  to  meet.  The  counsel 
for  the  prosecution  now  requested  that  the  court  adjourn 
until  farther  testimony  might  be  procured. 

Emily's  next  step  was  to  call  upon  Mr.  Revey,  who 
was  the  man  to  whom  she  had  lent  the  money,  given 
her  by  her  grandfather  when  she  left  France,  and  who 
attended,  as  will  be  remembered,  to  the  burial  of  Julia 
De  Wolfe.  He,  with  six  men,  chosen  by  Dr.  Willis, 
proceeded  to  the  place  where  had  been  deposited  the 
remains  of  Julia  De  Wolfe. 

The  court-room  was  crowded  to  overflowing  on  the 
next  day.  Mr.  Devony  was  there ;  but  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  troubled. 

Emily  Le  Rux  entered,  attended  by  her  able  counsel. 
That  gentleman  submitted  to  the  court,  for  inspection, 
the  gold  necklace  of  Julia  De  Wolfe,  to  which  was 
attached  the  locket,  with  the  initials  of  Julia's  name, 
and  the  date  of  her  birth.  It  also  showed  the  date  of 
her  death,  written  by  Emily's  own  hand. 

"  D — n  the  nigger !  She  was  too  well  educated  for  a 
slave,"  said  Mr.  Devony,  to  the  man  who  sat  beside 
him,  as  he  arose  to  leave  the  room.  He  had  gone  but 
;i  few  sfrps,  however,  before  ;i  death-like  pallor  over- 


SUICIDE   OF   MR.   DEVONY.  495 

spread  his  face,  and  he  attempted  to  catch  by  some- 
thing. A  friend  stepped  forward  and  rendered  him 
support. 

"  She 's  dead ! "  said  Devony,  in  a  murmur.  "  But, 
by  God,  she  has  come  back  again !  Oh,  she  haunts 
me !  "  screamed  he,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Imagination ! "  whispered  his  friend ;  "  be  calm." 

"  No,  by  heavens ! "  said  Devony ;  "  don't  you  see  her  ? 
Lead  me  out  of  the  room,  while  I  shut  my  eyes. 
Quick!  quick!" 

Dr.  "Willis  was  observing  him  narrowly.  He  turned 
to  Frank  and  said,  "  A  guilty  conscience  is  goading 
him." 

"  Mr.  Devony  wishes  your  attendance  at  his  house, 
immediately,"  said  a  messenger,  as  the  doctor  was 
seating  himself  at  the  dinner-table^ 

The  doctor  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then  said,  "  I 
will  attend  him  in  a  short  time." 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  delay,"  said  the  mesenger,  "  for  he 
is  very  bad,  and  they  cannot  hold  him ;  and  he  is  talk- 
ing all  the  time  about  your  taldng  somebody  away." 

The  doctor  complied  with  the  summons. 

Mr.  Devony  was  lying  upon  the  bed,  with  one  hand 
pressed  closely  over  his  eyes.  Beside  him  were  two 
strong  men,  and,  on  a  small  table  near,  stood  a  tumbler 
and  a  bottle  of  brandy.  The  doctor  stopped  as  he  en- 
tered, and  stood  looking  at  the  scene. 

"  Give  me  some  brandy ! "  said  Devony,  as  he  re- 
moved his  hand  from  his  eyes.  But  he  instantly  uttered 
a  wild  scream,  and  nearly  bounded  from  the  bed. 
Then  he  fell  back,  and  again  covered  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  wish  my  attendance  ? "  said  Dr.  Willis, 
approaching  the  bed. 


496       •  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  said  Devony ;  "  take  her  away  !  You 
can  do  it  —  you  are  on  her  side.     Do  it  —  do  it ! " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Dr.  Willis.  "  Do 
you  want  my  attendance  as  a  physician  ?  "  and  he  at- 
tempted to  feel  his  pulse. 

Devony  uncovered  his  eyes,  looked  at  Dr.  Willis,  and 
said:  "  I  am  a  perjured  man;  I  swore  to  a  lie;  I  con- 
fess it.  Do  your  worst  now  with  me.  But  take  her 
away,  for  she  haunts  me ! " 

He  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  then  bounded  from 
the  bed,  gave  one  scream,  and  rushed,  scarce  half 
clothed,  from  the  room,  down  the  stairs  into  the  street. 
The  attendants  quickly  pursued  him.  Street  after  street 
was  passed,  while  they  kept  their  eyes  upon  him.  But 
soon  they  came  to  a  stop.  They  were  looking  this 
way,  and  that.  The  maniac  was  still  upon  a  full  run. 
When  they  espied  him,  he  had  gained  the  levee,  but  he 
did  not  stop.  Giving  a  fearful  scream,  he  plunged 
into  the  water.  A  man  was  near,  who  sprang  to  the 
rescue.  But  where  is  Mr.  Devony  ?  The  water  closed 
over  him ;  he  rose  again,  but  the  man  could  not  reach 
him.     He  sank  once  more,  and  was  drowned ! 

Next  day,  the  papers  announced  the  death  of  Mr. 
Devony,  «by  drowning,  during  a  sudden  aberration  of 
mind.  Nothing  was  said  of  his  having  committed 
suicide,  because  of  a  guilty  conscience.  Nothing  was 
said  of  God's  having  forsaken  him,  because  he  had 
"  grieved  the  Spirit,  by  sinning  against  light."  Nothing 
was  said  of  the  poor,  downtrodden  Julia  De  Wolfe, 
the  daughter  of  his  once  loved  Emma's  brother,  Albert 
De  Wolfe. 

The  estate  of  Mr.  Devony,  after  his  death,  was  found 
so  involved,  that  the  suit  to  obtain  Julia's  property  was 
abandoned. 


CHAPTER    L. 

AN    UNEXPECTED  WEDDING. FRANK    AND    EMILY  LE    RUX 

GO    NORTH    TO   JOIN   EDWARD    LE    RUX. 

"  And  where  is  now  the  proud  family  of  De 
Wolfe  ? "  asked  Emily  of  her  aunt.  "  Where  the 
rich,  proud  estate,  earned  by  dealing  in  men,  women, 
and  children?  Scattered  to  the  winds  of  Heaven. 
And  not  only  is  that  property  gone,  but  also  one  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  brought  by  Mr.  De  Wolfe  from 
France ;  also,  a  similar  amount  which  he  received  by 
his  wife.     She  was  once  the  pride  of  France,-  for  she 

was  the  daughter  of  the  Marquis  M ,  and  she  died 

a  stricken  one.     Her  heart  had  long  been  breaking. 

"  I  tell  you,  aunt,"  continued  Emily,  "  that  they  were 
accursed  of  God,  and  that  curse  was  entailed,  in  its  dire 
consequences,  to  the  last  remnant  of  the  race  of  De  Wolfe. 
Not  that  God  curses  children  vindictively  for  the  deeds 
of  their  parents ;  but  the  legitimate  consequences  of 
crime  are  unavoidably  entailed  on  others.  Human 
slavery  was  only  instituted  in  rapine,  robbery,  and  mur- 
der ;  consequently  the  entailing  of  human  slavery  en- 
forces upon  those,  who  receive  the  inheritance,  the  un- 
avoidable continuation  of  all  its  crimes  and  blighting 
influences.  Thus  it  is  with  American  slavery.  There 
is  a  natural  and  retributive  curse  resting  upon  all  its 
supporters,  and  it  will  crush  them  down  to  the  lowest 
42*  (497) 


498  THE   CURSE  ENTAILED. 

hell ;  unless,  by  deep  repentance,  and  works  meet  for 
repentance,  they  ward  off  the  penalty." 

"  Do  you  mean  by  that,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  "  that 
we  should  turn  our  niggers  loose  ?  My  niggers  could 
not  take  care  of  themselves." 

"  How  do  you  know,  aunt  ?  "  replied  Emily.  "  Have 
you  tried  them  ?  In  contradiction  of  your  theory,  I  can 
cite  an  instance  in  point,  which  but  recently  occurred  in 
your  own  family.  Joe  is  loose ;  and  does  he  not  suc- 
ceed in  taking  care  of  .himself?  Creating  man  with 
ability  to  take  care  of  himself  is  the  province  of  God ; 
why  should  we  endeavor  to  render  ourselves  ridiculous 
in  the.  sight  of  God  and  man,  by  sitting  in  judgment 
upon  His  works  ?  "  Emily  seemed  to  warm  with  the 
subject,  and  continued :  "  You  seem  to  incline  to  the 
opinion,  aunt,  that  the  slaves,  if  set  free,  would  be  in- 
capable of  making  an  honorable  use  of  their  freedom. 
Were  we  placed  in  similar  positions  with  the  slaves  — 
held  in  bondage  for  a  series  of  years,  without  one  ray 
of  light  to  illumine  our  minds  in  the  thick  darkness 
which  surrounds  us  —  would  we  not  be  equally  as  in- 
capable of  taking  care  of  ourselves  ?  Should  we  not, 
in  such  a  case,  require,  as  much  as  you  say  they  do, 
owners  ?  Justice  and  reason  prove  incontrovertibly 
that  such  would  be  the  result. 

"  But  a  truce  to  these  arguments,  aunt.  If  you  have 
slaves  now,  act  in  a  Cliristian  spirit,  look  upon  the  matter 
in  the  light  of  humanity,  and  set  them  at  liberty. 
Wash  your  hands  of  the  guilt  of  holding  them,  and 
leave  the  rest  with  God.  Such  would  be  my  remedy  for 
so  great  an  evil.  I  should  set  my  slaves  at  liberty,  if 
I  inherited  any  by  man's  laws,  if  it  made  me  a  beggar ! 
And  I  feel  certain  that  would  not  be ;  for  I  should  be 


AN   UNEXPECTED   WEDDING.  499 

sustained  and  provided  for  by  God,  whose  laws  make 
no  slaves.  I  would  do  it  against  man's  laws ;  even 
though  I  knew  that  I  should  suffer  imprisonment  or 
death  for  it.  For  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  said  :  '  Fear 
not  him  who  hath  power  only  to  kill  the  body ;  but 
rather  fear  him  who  hath  power  to  destroy  both  soul 
and  body  in  hell.' 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  aunt,"  said  she,  "  that  the  imme- 
diate emancipation  of  the  slaves  is  what  alone  can  save 
this  nation  from  dissolution.  Suppose  the  present 
generation  do  suffer  something  to  redeem  their  children 
from  this  evil,  and  save  them  from  the  wrath  and  curse 
of  an  offended  God,  would  there  not  be  a  holy  pa- 
triotism in  it  ?  Did  not  our  forefathers  suffer  much  for 
us  ?  Did  they  not  endure  hardship,  cold,  and  hunger  ? 
Did  they  not  sacrifice  property,  and  even  life,  that  we 
might  be  free  ?  Let  the  slaveholders  of  America  act 
on  this  principle,  and  save  the  next  generation  from  deg- 
radation, crime,  and  shame,  and  the  just  curse  of  God ! 
Then  men  and  angels  would  rejoice;  their  children 
would  rise  up,  and  call  them  blessed ;  the  nations  of 
the  earth  would  speak  their  praise;  God  would  no 
longer  hold  them  in  derision ;  they  would  feel  his  ap- 
proving smile  resting  upon  them ;  their  own  consciences 
would  not  accuse  them ;  they  would  lay  themselves 
down  on  their  pillows  in  peace ;  they  would  awake  to 
rejoice  over  the  act  which  they  had  done;  and,  when 
they  died,  they  would  enter  a  haven  of  peace  and  rest 
above,  and  Christ  would  say,  '  Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servants ! '  " 

Emily  ceased  speaking;  and  looked  at  her  aunt. 
Oh,  how  she  longed  to  hear  her  admit  the  truth !     Oh, 


500  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

how  she  longed  to  have  her  see  and  feel  that  she  was 
guilty  before  God ! 

Frank  entered.  His  countenance  was  troubled.  He 
looked  at  his  mother,  and  sighed.  She  raised  her  eyes 
and  saw  those  of  Frank  looking  upon  her  in  pity. 
After  endeavoring  for  a  moment  to  hide  his  emotion, 
Frank  seated  himself  by  his  mother,  and  said : 

"  Mother,  it  is  as  I  have  long  suspected.  There  will 
be,  says  the  administrator,  nothing  left  for  you,  except 
barely  what  the  law  allows.  In  fact,  the  estate  of  my 
father  is  insolvent."  He  hesitated,  and  then  continued : 
"  Mother,  within  one  week  will  be  sold,  to  partly  cover 
the  debts  incurred  by  my  deceased  father,  all  the  men, 
women,  and  children  on  the  plantation.  They  have 
souls,  and  Christ  died  for  them;  and  how  revolting 
does  it  seem  that  they  should  be  sold  with  the  cattle, 
hogs,  and  horses !  I  have  just  returned  from  the  plan- 
tation, where  I  have  shed  many  tears.  O  mother! 
mother !  would  that  you  had  been  there  with  me ;  and, 
if  your  heart  had  not  been  touched  by  what  I  saw, 
then  would  I  have  knelt  beside  you  upon  that  spot,  and 
prayed  for  you  until  my  locks  were  wet  with  the  dews 
of  heaven ! " 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  was  agitated  at  the  solemn  earnest- 
ness of  Frank ;  but,  as  was  her  rule  in  such  cases,  she 
did  not  speak. 

Frank  looked  at  her  a  minute,  and  then  continued : 
"  Mother,  there  is  not  a  slave  on  that  plantation  for 
whom  I  did  not  pray;  and,  as  I  did  so,  you  and  my 
father  seemed  to  stand  before  me,  covered  with  guilt 
and  shame.  There  is  not  a  child  there  upon  whom  I 
have  not  laid  my  hand,  and  called  down  a  blessing 
from  Heaven  ;  and,  as  I  did  it,  I  felt  that  there  was  an 


AN  UNEXPECTED    WEDDING.  501 

inspiration  in  my  soul.  O  mother!  could  you  but  have 
seen  them,  as  they  begged  of  me  that  they  might  not 
be  separated  from  those  they  love!  oh,  could  you  have 
seen  those  slave-mothers,  as  they  lifted  their  little  ones 
up  in  their  arms  to  me,  and  begged  that '  young  Mas'r 
Frank  would  see  that  they  were  sold  together ! '  it 
could  not  have  failed  to  touch  your  heart ! " 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  made  him  no  answer,  but  left  the  room. 
On  her  re-entrance  into  the  room,  Frank  said  : 

"  Do  you  remember  Flora,  mother  —  your  house-ser- 
vant—  whom  you  felled  to  the  floor  soon  after  I  re- 
turned from  the  North,  and  who  was  soon  after  sent  to 
the  plantation  ?  " 

«  Certainly  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux.    "  What  of  her  ?  " 

"  She  is  about  one  half  white,  is  she  not  1"  said 
Frank. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  "  I  suppose  she  is." 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Frank,  "  I  have  resolved  to  tell 
you  all.  She  has  a  child  at  the  plantation  —  a  sweet 
little  girl,  about  eight  months  old ;  —  and,  as  she  put 
it  in  my  arms,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  said :  '  Young 
Mas'r  Frank,  your  father,  Mas'r  Le  Rux,  said  he 
never  would  sell  me  and  this  child,  'cause  it  was  his 
own  child.  He  also  promised  me  that  I  should  never 
go  off  from  this  plantation ;  and  that,  when  he  died, 
we  should  be  set  free.  Will  good  Mas'r  Frank  see  to 
it?'" 

Emily  was  in  tears.  Frank  fixed  his  eyes  search- 
ingly  upon  his  mother,  yet  she  did  not  seem  particu- 
larly troubled.  She  simply  nodded  her  head,  and  said, 
"  Flora  was  always  making  some  fuss." 

"  Oh,  how  horrid ! "  said  Emily.  "  Frank,  cannot 
Flora  and  her  child  be  saved  ?  " 


502  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  I  know  of  no  way,"  said  Frank.  "  They  are  adver- 
tised with  the  rest.  I  am  much  affected  by  the  circum- 
stance ;  but  what  can  I  do  ?  Think,  cousin,  of  my 
feelings,  as  I  looked  upon  that  little  half-sister,  and  saw 
it  raise  its  laughing  eyes  to  mine,  aa  if  it  loved  to  see 

me.     I  did "    He  stopped  suddenly,  glanced  at  his 

mother,  and  said :  "  There  are  thousands  of  others, 
probably,  now  in  this  country,  in  the  same  situation. 
Perhaps  there  is  not  an  hour  that  passes,  but  some 
mother  is  torn  from  her  child,  husband  from  his  wife, 
or  brother  from  a  sister.  It  is  a  fearful  thing !  It  is 
even  too  horrid  for  me  to  contemplate." 

"  You  are  altogether  too  sensitive,  Frank,"  said  his 
mother.  "  If  you  do  not  give  up  such  womanish  feel- 
ings, you  will  never  be  good  for  anything.  Do  try  and 
feel  as  I  do,  and  not  give  them  a  second  thought. 
Why  cannot  you  be  a  man,  Frank  ?  Come  and  sit 
down  by  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  something  which  will 
make  you  happy ;  or,  at  least,  something  which  I  should 
think  ought  to.  You  are  so  strange,  lately,  that  I 
hardly  know  whether  you  will  laugh  or  cry." 

Frank  seated  himself  by  her  side,  saying,  "  I  wish 
you  to  understand,  mother,  that  there  are  but  few 
things  which  have  power  to  make  me  laUgh,  or  even 
smile." 

"  I  did  not  mean,"  said  his  mother,  "  that  I  thought 
you  must  laugh  right  out.  I  only  meant,  that  I  would 
tell  you  something  which  ought  to  please  you,  and 
make  you  look  as  you  used  to  do,  before  you  went  to 
the  North,  for  then  you  was  always  happy." 

"  Well,  mother,"  replied  Frank,  "  you  can  tell  me 
nothing  which  will  make  me  feel  as  I  used  to  do  before 
I  went  North ;  for  then  I   was  wicked,  and  wild.     I 


AN  UNEXPECTED  WEDDING.  503 

knew  nothing  of  God,  or  the  holiness  and  purity  of 
his  character  ;  I  knew  nothing  of  my  duty  to  Him,  or 
to  my  fellow  beings.  I  would  not  be  as  I  was  then,  if 
you  would  give  me  millions  of  this  world's  goods ;  and 
now,  permit  me  to  tell  you  what  would  make  me 
happy." 

Mrs.  Le  Rux was  silent,  and  Frank  said :  "If  I  know 
my  own  heart,  mother,  the  thing  which  I  desire  most  is 
to  do  the  will  of  my  Father  in  heaven,  and  have  him 
glorified  in  all  things.  Secondly,  I  desire  that  all  men 
repent,  and  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  as  it  is 
in  Jesus  Christ ;  and  become  as  one  universal  brother- 
hood, of  whatever  nation,  tongue,  or  clime.  Thirdly,  I 
desire  that  this  nation  have  a  full  sense  of  her  guilt, 
and  repent,  and  do  away  with  slavery.  Fourthly,  I  de- 
sire that  my  mother  become  convinced  of  the  sin  of 
slavery;  go  North,  with  me  and  Emily,  and  let  me 
earn,  as  I  feel  that  I  can  do,  a  competence  for  her  sup- 
port." 

"  O  Frank,  Frank ! "  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  "  you  are  so 
strange !  I  have  lost  all  hope  of  you.  I  do  not  know- 
as  I  will  tell  you  now  anything  about  it."  And  she 
looked  disconcerted. 

"  But  you  will  go  North  with  us,"  said  Emily ; 
"  will  you  not,  aunt?  I  am  sure,  we  will  do  all  in  our 
power  to  make  you  happy." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Frank,  "  you  must  go  with  us. 
I  cannot  think  of  leaving  you  here  alone." 

"  That  you  will  not  be  obliged  to  do,"  said  Mrs  Le 
Rux,  with  much  triumph  in  her  tone, "  for  I  have  had 
an  offer." 

"  Had  an  offer!  —  of  what,  aunt?"  asked  Emily. 


504  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Why,  an  offer  of  marriage,  of  course!"  said  Mr?. 
Le  Rux. 

"  An  offer  of  marriage  !  "  said  Frank,  while  a  deep 
color  overspread  his  face. 

"  Yes,  indeed ! "  said  Mrs.  Le  Rux ;  "  and  the  oiler  has 
been  made  by  one  of  the  richest  planters  up  on  Red 
River.  Mr.  Mitchell  —  who  courted  me  before  I  mar- 
ried Mr.  Le  Rux.  I  had  his  heart  then,  and  he  has 
now  offered  me  his  hand.  He  is,  as  I  said,  rich ;  and 
has  one  of  the  largest  plantations  of  niggers  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  He,  as  well  as  myself,  would  be 
very  happy  to  have  you  and  Emily  take  up  your  resi- 
dence with  us  ;  at  least,  until  you  have  learned  how  to 
manage  well  a  plantation  for  yourself." 

"  O,  horrible,  mother ! "  said  Frank,  as  he  arose  to 
leave  the  room.  "  Do  not  do  it,  I  implore  you ! "  He 
saw  a  determination  in  her  face,  and  he  withdrew. 

"  I  had  hoped,"  said  he  to  Emily,  after  they  had  left 
the  room,  "  that  my  mother  might  yet  become  convinced 
of  the  sin  of  slavery ;  but  her  mind  is  utterly  dark,  and 
I  think  it  is  of  no  use  for  me  to  say  anything  more  to 
her.  I  shall  leave  the  South  with  you.  I  think  strongly 
of  going  to  some  new  Territory,  where,  I  trust,  I  may 
be  able  to  do  much  good.  I  have  a  hope  that  I  may 
yet  see  this  country  free  from  the  sin  of  slavery.  My 
hope  is  centered  in  the  rising  generation  —  in  those  who 

will  soon  become  actors  on  the  stage  of  life." 

****** 

Mrs.  Le  Rux  had  forgot  her  sorrow,  and  was  now  in 
the  best  of  spirits.  Emily  consented  to  be  present, 
when  Dr.  Gregory  should  perform  the  ceremony  which 
would  unite  her  to  the  rich  planter.     The  wedding,  her 


AN   UNEXPECTED  WEDDING.  505 

aunt  informed  her,  would  take  place  at  the  end  of  one 
week. 

"  You  have  never  visited  the  plantation,"  said  Frank 
to  Emily,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  of  which 
we  have  been  spealdng.     "  I  desire  you  to  do  so." 

Emily  was  not  long  in  deciding  that  she  would  go, 
and  they  were  soon  on  their  way.  The  slaves  were  all 
aware  that  they  must  be  sold  to  pay  "  ole  mas'r's 
debts ; "  and  they  talked  to  Emily  as  they  had  done  to 
Frank,  and  hoped  they  would  not  be  separated  from 
those  they  loved. 

Emily  had  a  long  talk  with  Flora.  Frank  also  con- 
versed with  her ;  and,  before  they  left,  Flora's  counten- 
ance, which  had  been  very  sad,  became  more  cheerful. 

"  You  leave  the  city  to-night  ? "  said  Frank  to  Mr. 
Irving,  the  able  counsellor  from  the  North. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Nehemiah  also  leaves  to-night,"  said  Dr.  Willis  to 
Emily. 

"  I  am  surprised,"  remarked  Emily,  "  at  Nehemiah's 
manliness,  as  well  as  his  good  looks.  From  the  time 
I  first  saw  him,  I  was  struck  with  his  resemblance  to 
some  one  whom  I  had  seen ;  but  I  could  not  call  to 
mind  who.  I  now  see  that  he  resembles  you  very 
much." 

"  Jew  David  is  robbed  of  his  revenge,  so  far  as  the  ruin 
of  my  son  is  concerned,"  said  the  doctor.  "  He  is  a  great 
comfort  to  me.  I  would  sooner  have  him  as  he  is,  than 
to  have  him  restored  to  me  in  all  the  pride  and  glory  of 
many  slaveholders,  who  have  lived  and  moved  in  these 
circles,  where  the  mind  voluntarily  becomes  perverted. 
43 


506  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

There  are  those  here  who  still  seek  his  life,  and  he  must 
leave.  I  shall  soon  follow  him,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Brinsmade.  Mr.  Brinsmade  remains  to  contest  his 
right  to  some  property  left  by  his  mother,  which  fell  to 
her  after  the  death  of  his  father." 

The  wedding  at  length  took  place ;  and  the  next  day 
Mrs.  Mitchell,  as  we  must  now  call  Mrs.  Le  Rux,  saw 
Frank  and  Emily  depart  for  the  North. 


CHAPTER       LI. 

THE    MEETING    OP    FRIENDS    AT    THE    NORTH. 

The  meeting  of  our  friends  at  the  house  of  Edward 
Le  Rux,  we  shall  not  attempt  to  describe.  We  will 
leave  the  picture  to  be  filled  up  by  the  imagination  of 
the  reader. 

Ella  found  Emily,  as  she  expected,  a  very  noble  and 
agreeable  companion  and  friend. 

Mr.  Le  Roy  was  consulting  Emily,  regarding  her 
return  to  France  with  him,  when  she  received  a  letter 
from  no  less  a  personage  than  the  honorable  counsel- 
lor-at-law,  Mr.  Irving,  who  had  been  her  attorney  in 
Louisana,  offering  her  his  hand.  As  she  knew  the  man, 
she  judged  that  she  had  already  secured  his  heart. 

This  offer  she  immediately  laid  before  her  grandfather; 
but  the  old  man  —  although  he  felt  that  he  had  no  right 
to  interfere  in  the  case  —  was  evidently  much  affected 
by  it,  as  it  would  not  harmonize  with  his  wishes. 

"  Who  is  dead  ?  "  inquired  Frank  of  Dr.  Freeman, 
one  day,  on  seeing  a  funeral  procession.  "  There  is  not 
one  mourner,"  continued  he. 

"  It  is  an  aged  lady,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  the  widow 
of  our  late  clergyman,  Mr.  Brown  son." 

"  Has  she  no  relatives  ?  "  inquired  Frank. 

"  One  son,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  if  he  is  still  living. 
He  went  to  Kentucky  soon  after  the  death  of  his  father, 
and  she  has  heard  nothing  from  him  for  some  time." 

(507) 


508  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  And  has  not  this  neglect  accelerated  her  death  ?  " 
inquired  Edward. 

"  I  am  sure  that  it  has,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  The 
last  letter  she  received  from  him  was  very  unsatisfac- 
tory, as  it  informed  her  that  he  intended  to  leave  Ken- 
tucky for  Missouri  in  a  few  days ;  and  he  expressed 
much  irritation  that  she  had  not  sent  him  more  money. 
It  was  out  of  her  power  to  do  so,  as  the  estate  was 
unsettled,  and  she  had  already  deprived  herself  of 
many  comforts,  in  order  to  make  him  the  last  remit- 
tance." 

"  But  there  is,  of  course,  a  large  unencumbered  prop- 
erty?" remarked  Edward. 

"  So  it  was  supposed,"  replied  the  doctor ;  "  but 
claims  against  the  estate  to  a  large  amount  have  turned 
up.  They  are  for  money  which  George  borrowed 
without  his  father's  knowledge,  during  his  college 
course.     Besides  these,  large  store-bills  are  sent  in,  for 

purchases  made  in  S ,  while  George  was  studying 

theology  there." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  Edward,  "  that,  with  all  the 
father's  liberality,  the  son  acted  in  such  a  manner  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor ;  "  and  he  has  only  proved 
what  I  always  suspected  —  that  he  is  a  worthless  fel- 
low ;  and  in  Missouri  he  would  be  fit  for  nothing  but  a 
border  ruffian." 

"  I  want  you  to  call,"  said  Mr.  Erskine  to  Frank,  "  and 
hear  my  man  James  cry  like  a  baby ;  and  then  I  will 
tell  you  how  he  and  Ella  drove  George  Brownson  from 
the  place.  It  is  likely  that  the  story  has  followed  him 
to  Kentucky." 

"  Have  I  never  iold  you  the  facts  in  regard  to  that," 


THE  MEETING  OP  FRIENDS  AT  THE  NORTH.    509 

inquired  the  doctor,  "  as  he  stated  them  himself,  in  a 
letter  to  his  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed." 

"  Well,  then,  those  slave-catchers,  who  were  fooled 
by  Ella,  really  believed  that  George  Brownson  led  them 
into  an  'ambush  of  abolitionists,'  as  they  termed  it; 
and  it  was  through  their  influence  that  he  was  forced 
to  leave  Kentoky." 

"  I  never  could  imagine,"  said  Edward,  "  why  he 
went  to  Kentucky."  * 

"  I  suppose  you  have  no  need  of  your  imagination  to 

inform  you  why  he  left  S ,  and  this  part  of  the 

country;  but  he  went  to  Kentucky  to  receive  the 
patronage  of  a  friend  of  his  father  —  a  lawyer,  whose 
name  I  do  not  recollect;  but  I  know  that  he  is  a 
slaveholder,  and  that  he  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  slave  traffic  in  Missouri." 

"  I  knew,"  said  James,  "  that  those  slave-catchers 
were  not  much  pleased  with  George  Brownson's  man- 
agement that  night;  for  they  looked  at  him  in  a  mighty 
suspicious  way,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  I  must  keep  my 
eye  peeled.' " 

Frank  was  not  in  very  good  spirits,  for  he  was  think- 
ing of  his  home  —  of  his  mother  —  and  of  past  scenes ; 
but  he  did  indulge  in  a  hearty  laugh  when  James  cried, 
and  at  several  scenes  during  Mr.  Erskine's  recital.  But 
what  astonished  him  most,  were  the  facts  in  regard  to 
Joe  and  his  family. 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  from  them,"  inquired  Ed- 
ward, «  after  they  left  Nathan's  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Erskine,  "  they  got  safe  to 
Canada,  and  have  done  well  since." 

"  I  could  have  assured  you  they  would,"  said  Frank ; 
43* 


510  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  for  Joe  was  one  of  the  most  energetic,  faithful  fellows 
I  ever  saw ;  and  he  will  always  do  his  best." 

"  George  Brownson's  father,"  said  Edward  to  Frank, 
"  was  one  of  the  strongest  pro-slavery  preachers  in  all 
this  region  of  country.  His  wife  imbibed  all  his  bit- 
terness towards  the  abolitionists." 

"  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Erskine,  "  that,  if  she  had  given 
directions  concerning  her  funeral,  she  would  have 
sooner  lain  above  ground,  than  have  suffered  the  '  anti- 
slavery  infidels,'  as  she  called  them,  to  bury  her." 

"  Is  it  not  strange,"  asked  Frank,  "  that  men  and 
women  can  be  so  darkened,  where  they  have  so  much 
light  ?  Oh !  how  my  mind  revolts  at  the  thought  of  a 
pro-slavery  preacher!  He  must  be  utterly  unacquainted 
with  even  the  first  principles  of  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Chris*." 

Ella  is  arranging  a  beautiful  bridal  dress  in  the 
house  of  her  father.  She  had  spent  much  of  her  time 
with  Emily  since  the  arrival  of  the  latter  in  C . 

Emily  may  be  seen  in  Mr.  Erskine's  kitchen,  with 
Mrs.  Wise,  who  has  volunteered  to  assist  in  prepara- 
tions for  the  wedding. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Emily  of  Mrs. 
Wise. 

"  I  am  going  to  put  in  these  seasonings.  I  always 
save  a  part  until  the  cake  has  raised ;  then  I  add  them, 
and  stir  the  cake  a  long  time  with  my  hand." 

"  Oh !  that  must  be  delightful ! "  said  Emily.  "  I 
told  my  aunt  at  the  South,  that  my  hands  were  made 
to  work ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  begin.  May  I  do 
it?" 

"  It  is  pretty  hard  work,"  replied  Mrs.  Wise. 

"  Oh !  never  mind ;  I  am  strong."     Emily  was  soon 


THE   MEETING    OP   FRIENDS    AT   THE   NORTH.  511 

patting  and  stirring  the  cake  vigorously ;  but  it  was  not 
many  moments  before  she  stopped,  and,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  said,  "  I  shall  learn  not  to  tire  after  a  while." 
S  he  began  again,  with  renewed  energy.  At  last,  she 
relinquished  it  to  Mrs.  Wise,  saying,  as  she  did  so: 
"  Perseverance  will  conquer  all  difficulties.  I  have  had 
my  hands  in  Ella's  wedding-cake,  and  that  is  worth 
writing  about  to  my  aunt." 

"  Mr.  Erskine  said,  that  you  made  a  linen  shirt  for 
Edward,  and  that  it  was  most  beautifully  done,"  said 
Laura. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Emily ;  "  but  I  could  not  have  done 
it,  if  Mrs.  Wise  had  not  shown  me.  I  can  make  one 
now  without  showing,  as  well  as  anybody  else ;  and  I 
assure  you  that  I  am  much  pleased.  And  that  is 
another  thing  which  I  will  write  to  my  aunt." 

"  Had  you  not  better  wait,"  said  Mrs.  Wise,  "  until 
you  have  finished  your  woollen  stocldngs  ?  And  then 
you  will  have  quite  a  catalogue  of  things  to  tell,  which 
you  have  learned." 

It  was  evening,  and  Edward  Le  Rux  was  seated 
with  Mr.  Le  Roy  in  the  room  which  he  had  called  the 
"  sanctuary  of  his  mother." 

On  a  sofa  reclined  Emily,  while,  now  and  then,  Ed- 
.  ward's  voice  was  drowned  by  her  sobs,  as  he  related  to 
them  the  events  of  his  childhood,  and  spoke  of  the 
self-denying  labors  and  noble  spirit  of  his  mother. 

At  length,  Mr.  Le  Roy  said :  "  No  more  to-night,  my 
son.  Spare,  oh  spare  my  Emily,  until  another  time ! 
I  have  examined  these  papers,  Emily,"  continued  he, 
"  and  they  will  be  open  to  your  inspection  at  any  time. 
But  I  beg  of  you  to  keep  yourself  sustained,  whenever 


512  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

you  read,  by  the  cheering  thought,  that  your  mother, 
who  thus  suffered  and  wrote,  is  now  an  angel  in  heaven. 
I  have  been  comforted  by  the  perusal  of  her  writings, 
for  it  has  given  me  an  assurance,  which  nothing  else 
could,  that  her  heart  was  stayed  upon  God." 

He  now  took  the  jewels  which  had  belonged  to  Mrs. 
Le  Clare,  and,  presenting  them  to  Emily,  said :  "  In 
doing  this,  I  fulfil  the  wish  of  your  mother.  Edith  is 
what  I  desire  you  to  be  called  in  future,  as  that  was 
the  name  your  mother  called  you ;  and  it  proves,  as  do 
also  her  writings,  that  she  had  a  faint  remembrance  of 
her  home,  and  of  her  mother,  whose  name  was  Edith 
Annette,  and  whom  I  often  addressed  by  the  name  of 
Edith." 

Edward  now  took  from  his  bosom  the  picture  of  his 
mother,  which  had  been  brought  to  the  house  by  his 
father.  It  was  the  same  that  had  dropped  from  the 
linen,  in  the  chamber  of  Mr.  Le  Rux. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  "  so  like  what  her 
mother  was  !  "  And  the  old  man  wept  again.  "  I  had 
thought,"  murmured  he,  "  that  the  fountain  of  my  tears 
had  long  since  dried ;  but  America  has  power  to  call 
them  forth  afresh.  Leave  me,  my  children,  until  I  re- 
cover strength." 

"  And  here  is  where  I  always  receive  strength,"  said 
Edward,  sinking  upon  his  knees.  "  Here,  too,  is  where 
my  mother  sought,  and  found  it."  The  heart  of  each 
was  lifted  up,  while  Edward  prayed. 


CHAPTER     LII. 

THE   WEDDING    OF    EDWARD    AND    ELLA. 

The  day  appointed  for  the  wedding  arrived,  and 
Ella  Erskine  became  the  wife  of  Edward  Le  Rux. 
There  were  present  many  of  the  villagers,  besides 
Nathan  and  Ruth.  And  the  next  day  saw  Ella  in- 
stalled mistress  of  the  home  of  Edward. 

"  So  you  have  paid  Edward  at  last,"  said  Dr.  Free- 
man, as  he  called  next  day,  in  company  with  his  wife, 
upon  the  bride. 

"  And  with  interest  compounded,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy. 
But  where  was  Edith  —  as  we  will  now  call  her — 
while  Edward  was  with  his  bride,  engaged  in  household 
arrangements?  She  was  perusing  her  mother's  papers; 
and,  when  she  made  her  appearance  with  the  family, 
they  saw  traces  of  tears  on  her  cheeks.  But  a  smile 
again  lighted  up  her  face,  when  she  met  her  friends. 

"  I  must  leave  for  a  few  days,"  said  Frank,  as  he 
entered  the  sitting-room,  hurriedly,  one  morning,  where 
Edith  was  alone. 

"  Not  until  you  have  informed  me  why  your  coun- 
tenance is  so  troubled,"  replied  Edith. 

"  That  is  what  I  have  come  to  do,"  said  Frank ;  "  for 
I  want  your  advice.  Nehemiah  was  to  have  been  here 
with  Flora,  and  her  child,  one  week  ago  ;  but  they  have 
not  come ;  and  Mr.  Ersldne  informs  me  that,  about 
that  time,  there  were  two  men  in  pursuit  of  a  fugitive 

(513) 


514  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

woman  and  child  at  Nathan's  ;  and  I  am  much 
troubled  about  it." 

"  What  do  you  purpose  doing  ?  "  asked  Edith. 

"  I  will  get  upon  their  track  and  follow  them,  or  at 
least  learn  whether  they  were  from  Louisana.  I  have 
a  letter  from  my  mother,  and  she  gives  us  both  an 
urgent  invitation  to  come  to  her,  as  soon  as  we  have 
finished  our  visit  here,  and  see  what  it  is  to  have  a 
plantation  of  negroes  managed  upon  the  right  prin- 
ciple." 

Edith  could  hardly  forbear  smiling,  as  she  took  the 
letter.  "  My  aunt  ought  to  go  to  the  insane  retreat," 
said  Edith,  "  for  I  am  sure  she  has  lost  her  reason." 

But  Frank  appeared  exceedingly  sorrowful,  and  it 
did  not  take  long  for  Edith  to  become  a  participator  of 
his  feelings. 

"  May  I  answer  my  aunt's  letter,  Frank  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  was  going  to  request  you  to  do. 
If  I  could  have  the  least  hope  of  benefiting  her,  I 
would  write  myself.    But  what  more  can  I  say  to  her?" 

"  There  comes  Nathan's  dog,"  said  Ella,  as  she 
opened  the  door;  "  and  his  master  is  not  far  behind.  I 
am  mistaken,  if  he  does  not  bring  us  good  news." 

As  Edith  looked  through  the  window,  she  saw  not 
only  Nathan,  but  Nehemiah  —  or,  as  we  should  now 
call  him,  Horatio. 

Frank's  face  presented  altogether  a  different  appear- 
ance, when  Nathan  informed  him  that  all  was  well. 
They  had  kept  Flora  secreted  at  the  depot  of  the  Un- 
derground Railroad,  until  her  pursuers  were  completely 
baffled. 

Frank  and  Edith  visited  at  Nathan's  the  next  day, 
and  both  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  Flora,  giving 


THE  WEDDING  OP  EDWARD  AND  ELLA.     515 

her  much  good  advice  and  instruction,  as  to  her  course 
in  future,  both  as  it  regarded  herself  and  her  child. 

The  day  set  for  another  wedding  in  C arrived, 

and  Edith  Emily  Le  Rux  became  the  wife  of  T. 
Irving,  Esq.  This  wedding,  at  the  earnest  request  of 
Dr.  Willis,  had  been  postponed  for  some  weeks,  he 
having  a  desire  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony. 

"  I  feel,"  said  Dr.  Willis  to  Mr.  Le  Roy,  as  they 
were  seated  in  the  parlor,  the  evening  before  the  wed- 
ding, "an  interest  in  your  grand-daughter's  welfare, 
perhaps,  in  some  respects,  equal  to  your  own.  I  have 
told  you  what  I  felt  towards  her  mother ;  and  my  sen- 
timents are  the  same  for  her.  It  is  a  sore  trial  for  me 
to  think  of  being  separated  from  her,  I  can  assure 
you." 

Tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Le  Roy ;  he  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal  them.  He  said,  however,  "  I  need 
offer  no  apology  to  you  for  my  weakness ;  and  it  is  a 
comfort  for  me  to  be  surrounded  with  sympathetic 
friends.  I  find  my  children  —  as  I  now  call  them  —  all 
that  I  could  wish.  I  had  desired,  yea,  I  had  felt  confi- 
dent, that  I  should  take  them  back  with  me  to  France. 
But  I  see  how  it  is.  I  have  prayed  that  I  might  be  di- 
rected by  God ;  and  I  now  feel  that  he  needs  them  in 
America  more  than  in  France ;  nor  dare  I  longer  rebel 
against  his  will.  To  return  without  them,  I  cannot. 
In  France,  I  had  none  to  take  an  interest  in  my  wel- 
fare. I  am  rich ;  but,  before  leaving,  I  placed  my  prop- 
erty in  such  a  position,  that,  in  case  I  should  meet  a 
watery  grave,  or  death  in  any  other  way,  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  its  settlement  by  any  one.  My  agent 
there  is -prepared  to  pay  over,  in  ready  cash,  all  my 
funds,  at  any  time,  when  a  lawful  demand  is  made. 


516  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

The  guests  had  retired.  It  was  evening.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Irving  were  in  the  parlor ;  also,  Edward  and 
Ella,  Mr.  Erskine,  Dr.  Willis,  his  son  Horatio,  and 
Frank  Le  Rux. 

Mr.  Le  Roy  was  seated  in  the  large  arm-chair. 
Edith  sat  looking  at  him ;  again  she  saw  tears  in  his 
eyes.  She  felt  that  he  was  thinking  of  other  days. 
She  arose,  and  gently  said :  "  To  you,  my  dear  grand- 
father, am  I  indebted  for  all  my  happiness ;  for  you 
taught  me  virtue  —  you  taught  me  to  love  and  obey 
God.  And  who  can  be  truly  happy  without  virtue  ? 
Who  can  be  happy  without  a  knowledge  of  themselves, 
and  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  their  hearts?  Oh! 
had  I  a  thousand  lives  to  live,  I  would  seek  for  those 
gifts  which  are  of  God." 

"  Amen,"  responded  Edward.  "  Amen,"  exclaimed 
Frank. 

Mr.  Le  Roy  arose.  "  Sit  you  there,  all  of  you,"  said 
he,  as  he  pointed  to  Frank,  and  from  him  to  Edward 
and  Edith.  Frank  arose  to  comply.  "  Here,"  said  Mr. 
Le  Roy,  as  he  stepped  forward  and  placed  his  hand 
between  Edward  and  Edith.  They  understood  his 
meaning ;  they  moved  a  little  aside,  and  Frank  seated 
himself  between  them.  "  And  now,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  you  are  all  mine.  My  children,  whom  God  has 
given  unto  me  i»  this  time  of  my  distress.  You  must 
all  share  alike  in  what  He  has  given  me  of  this  world's 
goods.  And,  as  Isaac  blessed  Jacob,  so  bless  I  you  all. 
And  I  thank  God  that  you  have  not  sold  your  birth- 
right to  this  guilty  nation  ! "  He  laid  his  hand  on  each 
of  their  heads,  and  said,  " '  Now  lettest  thou  thy  ser- 
vant depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salva- 
tion.'    Dedicate  yourselves,"  continued  he,  "  to  the  scr- 


THE  WEDDING  OP  EDWARD  AND  ELLA.      517 

vice  of  freedom,  and  God  grant  that  your  labors  be  not 
in  vain." 

They  all  arose  to  their  feet. 

"  Let  us  dedicate  ourselves  anew  to  the  work,"  said 
Edward.  They  raised  their  hands  while  Edward  said : 
"  We  do  solemnly  promise  and  pledge  ourselves  to 
work  for  the  freedom  of  the  downtrodden  sons  and 
daughters  of  America;  and  to  this  work  we  dedicate 
our  lives,  our  fortunes,  and  our  sacred  honor." 

"  Now  let  us  unite  in  a  freedom  prayer-meeting. 
Let  us  now  pray  for  this  nation,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy ; 
"  let  us  pray  for  its  rulers  —  for  its  fathers  and  moth- 
ers, its  sons  and  its  daughters ;  let  us  pray  for  the 
slave." 

And  Mr.  Le  Roy  addressed  the  throne  of  grace  in 
the  most  fervent  manner.  He  was  followed  by  Dr. 
Willis.  After  which,  each  in  their  turn  called  upon 
God  to  bear  witness  to  the  resolve  which  they  had 
made ;  and  to  aid  and  give  them  strength  equal  to 
their  day. 

u 


CHAPTER    LI  IT. 

NEW    DISCLOSURES. 

It  was  some  three  months  after  the  events  men- 
tioned in  the  last  chapter,  that  the  same  persons  met 
again  in  the  parlor  of  Edward  Le  Rux.  There  was 
also  another  friend,  Mr.  Brinsmade,  who  was  sitting 
upon  one  side  of  Mr.  Le  Roy,  with  Dr.  Willis  upon 
the  other.  Mr.  Le  Roy  was  in  an  easy-chair.  Emily 
was  standing  near,  as  if  to  catch  his  words. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  "  it  is  well  with  me  ; 
and  I  am  only  waiting  God's  time  to  take  me  to  him- 
self. I  experience  no  pangs  for  my  past  acts,  except 
that  I  did  not  seek  more  wisdom  in  early  life  ;  for  wis- 
dom is  a  pearl  of  great  price." 

Since  the  friends  met  before  in  this  parlor,  Edith  had 
visited  Philadelphia,  Washington,  and  various  other 
places  in  the  United  States  ;  and  had  returned  at  this 
time,  solely  on  account  of  the  illness  of  Mr.  Le  Roy. 

Dr.  Willis  and  Frank  had  also  visited  New  Orleans, 
and  Frank  had  spent  a  few  days  with  his  mother. 

"  God  bless  you  all,"  said  Mr.  Le  Roy,  as  Mr.  Irving 
and  Edith  assisted  him  from  the  room. 

"  Do  you  think  that  my  grandfather  is  dangerously 
ill,  and  that  we  shall  soon  miss  his  benignant  counten- 
ance from  amongst  us  ?  "  asked  Emily  of  Dr.  Willis, 
on  re-entering  the  room. 

"  He  tells  me,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  that  he  has  been 

(518) 


NEW   DISCLOSURES.  519 

troubled  with  a  cough  for  some  years.  1  regret  to  say 
that  I  think  he  has  the  consumption ;  but  there  is  no 
danger  of  dissolution  immediately.  I  have  only  waited 
for  your  approval  to  recommend  him  to  travel." 

Emily  seemed  troubled  at  the  doctor's  information ; 
and  thought,  like  him,  that  it  would  be  best  for  Mr.  Le 
Roy  to  travel. 

"  It  is  not  until  since  my  return,  that  I  have  learned 
from  Horatio,  that  Fanny  did  not  make  good  her 
escape  at  the  time  she  left  New  Orleans,"  said  Emily, 
seeming  ever  to  make  the  welfare  of  the  slave  a  sub- 
ject of  earnest  consideration. 

"  I  had  not  intended  that  you  should  ever  learn  it," 
said  the  doctor ;  "  for  I  felt  that  it  would  pain  you 
exceedingly.  She  was  seized  upon  the  oath  of  a  kid- 
napper, under  the  Fugitive  Law,  and  given  up  by  the 
commissioner  in  the  most  dastardly  manner,  without 
even  the  mockery  of  a  trial.  Had  she  followed  the 
directions  given  her  by  Horatio,  she  might  perhaps  have 
escaped.  But  she  would  go  to  the  canal  to  find  Minta, 
instead  of  keeping  upon  the  track  of  the  Underground 
Railroad,  and  she  was  taken." 

"  Oh,  that  I  could  know  her  fate ! "  said  Edith. 

Frank  and  Dr.  Willis  exchanged  glances,  and  Frank, 
after  walking  the  room  a  few  moments,  turned  to 
leave  it. 

"  You  are  agitated,"  said  Edith  to  him.  "  You  know 
something  of  Fanny's  fate?  Do  as  you  used  to  do, 
and  open  your  whole  heart  to  me,  for  I  am  anxious 
about  the  matter." 

Frank  hesitated. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  anything  is  better  than  sus- 
pense ?  "  said  Edith.     "  Have  you  forgotten  the  scenes 


520  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

through  which  we  passed  together  ?  Fear  not  to  tell 
me,  Frank,  for  I  am  Emily  yet ;  and  I  feel  that  I  am 
safe  in  saying,  that  you  are  no  less  Frank  than  when 
you  stood  with  me  over  the  dying  bed  of  Julia  De 
Wolfe." 

"  You  are  right,  cousin,"  said  Frank,  as  he  re-seated 
himself.  "  I  had  resolved,  however,  that  if  it  were  pos- 
sible for  me  to  do  so  without  dissimulation,  I  would 
never  reveal  to  you  that  I  saw  Fanny  while  I  was  on 
my  visit  to  my  mother.  But  you  have  a  right  to  know 
the  truth.  With  what  you  have  seen  and  felt  of 
slavery,  you  would  always  be  led  to  think  of  Fanny  as 
suffering  under  its  evils.  But  she  has  escaped  by 
death. 

"  I  found  my  mother,  as  she  had  told  us,  the  wife  of 
one  of  the  richest  planters  on  Red  River.  I  found,  also, 
that  her  husband  had  no  soul,  and  that  he  was  cruel  in 
the  extreme  to  his  slaves.  I  found  my  mother  where 
there  seemed  to  be  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  exer- 
cising all  her  long-talked-of  power  over  her  unfortunate 
victims.  There  are  degrees  in  cruelty  towards  the 
slaves  in  different  States ;  and  perhaps  cruelty  is  carried 
to  its  utmost  on  Red  River.  You  know  that  my  mother 
often  expressed  a  wish  that  we  might  witness  slavery  con- 
ducted upon  the  principle  that  her  father  had  conducted 
it ;  and  she  evidently  took  much  delight  in  bringing  me 
in  contact  with  scenes,  which  she  thought  would  excite 
my  admiration,  as  to  the  power  which  Mr.  Mitchell 
held  over  his  slaves.  He  always  talked  of  his  '  niggers' 
as  he  did  of  his  hogs  or  cattle ;  but  he  did  not  treat 
them  as  well,  and  I  do  not  believe  he  had  as  much  feel- 
ing for  them.  I  was  not  silent,  and  often  attempted  to 
throw  oat  .remarks  respecting  their  youls,  and  the  desire 


NEW  DISCLOSURES.  521 

I  felt  that  they  might  be  taught  to  read.  My  endeavors 
however  met  with  little  sympathy ;  granite  will  crum- 
ble in  the  lapse  of  ages,  but  hearts  like  his  will  never 
be  touched. 

"  He  had  inflicted  a  severe  punishment  upon  a  small 
boy,"  continued  Frank,  "  for  no  other  offence  than  that 
he  had  accidentally  broken  his  pipe.  The  punishment 
was  inflicted  with  a  hot  iron,  by  applying  it  to  his  arm, 
just  above  the  elbow !  I  was  indignant,  and  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal  it." 

"  What  could  have  tempted  you  to  go  there  ?  "  said 
Edith  Emily,  with  a  shudder. 

"  It  was  by  my  request,"  said  Dr.  Willis.  "  I  was 
myself  in  search  of  Fanny,  and  I  suggested  to  Frank 
the  propriety  of  his  visiting  his  mother,  and  of  tracing 
Fanny,  as  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  she  was  some- 
where in  that  direction." 

"  Mr.  Mitchell,"  said  Frank,  "  informed  me  that  a 
drove  of  slaves  had  just  arrived  from  New  Orleans,  and 
that,  as  he  had  a  desire  to  purchase  some  of  them,  he 
was  going  to  attend  the  sale.  This  was,  of  course, 
what  I  desired  to  do  myself,  and  I  accompanied  him  to 
the  place. 

"  The  third  victim  placed  upon  the  block  was  a  girl. 
'  This  must  be  Fanny,'  thought  I ;  and  I  "Was  almost 
upon  the  point  of  bidding  for  her,  for  the  doctor  informed 
me  that  that  was  your  wish,  when  I  perceived  that  she 
leaned  somewhat  to  one  side,  as  if  one  leg  was  shorter 
than  the  other.  I  turned  aside,  opened  the  paper  given 
me  by  Dr.  Willis,  containing  an  accurate  description  of 
her  person,  and  found  that,  in  this  respect,  she  did  not 
answer  the  description  given.  She  stood  upon  the 
block,  not  even  lifting  her  eyes,  until  she  was  '  knocked 
44* 


522  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

down,'  when  she  cast  one  look  upon  the  spectators. 
Our  eyes  met,  and  I  fancied  she  recognized  me,  for  her 
lips  moved.  She  then  brought  her  leg  to  its  natural 
position.  '  It  is  indeed  Fanny,'  thought  I ;  '  but  how 
can  she  recognize  me,  as  I  have  never  seen  her  but 
once,  and  then  only  for  a  few  minutes?  —  at  the  time  of 
your  interview  with  her  after  your  release.  I  deter- 
mined, however,  to  follow  her.  She  had  feigned  her 
lameness,  in  the  hope,  doubtless,  that  it  would  prevent 
her  being  sold,  or  for  some  other  reason  which  I  could 
not  solve. 

"  The  fellow  who  had  purchased  her  had  six  in  his 
gang.  I  followed  the  same  road  that  he  had  taken, 
thinking  that  I  might  perhaps  get  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  Fanny.  I  kept  at  a  distance,  until  I  saw  the 
negroes  enter  a  gate  leading  to  a  house,  which  proved 
to  be  the  residence  of  their  owner.  I  entered  the  house, 
telling  the  planter  that  I  was  the  son  of  Mrs.  Mitchell, 
that  I  was  fatigued,  and  desired  to  remain  with  him 
during  the  night.  This  was  readily  granted,  and,  after 
supper,  I  was  shown  to  my  room,  which  was  on  the 
first  floor. 

"  I  was,  as  I  have  said,  fatigued ;  but,  with  a  firm 
resolution  not  to  sleep,  I  cast  myself  upon  the  bed, 
without  digesting  myself  of  my  clothes,  pondering  in 
my  mind  the  ways  and  means  by  which  I  might  release 
Fanny.  Twelve  o'clock  came,  and  there  was  still 
opening  and  shutting  of  doors  in  the  house. 

"  I  was  awakened  from  a  partial  sleep,  just  as  the 
clock  struck  one,  by  a  scream.  I  sprang  from  my  bed, 
and,  seizing  my  hat,  left  the  house,  and  went  to  the 
quarters,  where  I  had  seen  the  slaves  conducted.  There 
was  nothing  to  debar  my  entering  it.     There  upon  the 


NEW   DISCLOSURES.  523 

floor  of  the  cabin  lay  the  wretch,  who  had  bought  the 
girl,  stabbed  to  the  heart.  I  left  the  building  ;  and,  as 
I  turned  around  the  corner .  of  it,  I  saw  some  one 
fleeing  across  the  lot.  It  appeared  to  be  a  woman.  I 
now  felt  convinced  that  it  was  Fanny ;  that  she  had 
defended  herself,  and  was  escaping.  I  pursued,  while 
the  object  flew  before  me.  I  pronounced  the  flame  of 
Fanny,  in  as  loud  a  voice  as  I  dared.  It  was  not 
heeded  by  the  retreating  form ;  and,  although  I  fol- 
lowed rapidly  in  the  pursuit,  still  she  distanced  me. 

"  Soon  two  bloodhounds  were  upon  her  track.  As 
they  passed  me,  I  raised  my  pistol,  fired,  and  one  of 
the  dogs  fell ;  but  the  other,  I  soon  found,  had  caught 
her.  As  I  was  nearing  them,  I  saw  her  make  a  pass 
at  the  dog  with  her  knife ;  but  she  missed  him.  I 
reached  the  spot  just  in  time  to  take  the  hound  from 
her  throat.  Her  eyes  were  shut,  and,  as  I  attempted 
to  raise  her  head,  she  murmured,  '  O  God !  receive  my 
spirit,'  and  plunged  the  knife  into  her  heart !  Before  I 
left,  her  death-struggle  had  ceased,  and  her  grasp  on  the 
knife  had  loosened,  which  I  brought  home  with  me ;  and 
thus  another  victim  was  sacrificed  to  the  demon,  slavery. 
I  fled  from  the  spot,  for  those  in  pursuit  were  now  ap- 
proaching. I  returned  to  the  house  unobserved,  and 
soon  after  went  to  the  stable,  obtained  my  horse,  and, 
before  my  mother  had  arisen,  I  entered  the  house. 

"  I  related  the  circumstances  to  Mr.  Mitchell  and  my 
mother ;  the  former  of  whom  said  that  such  things  were 
not  uncommon,  while  the  latter  expressed  her  regret 
that  such  losses  should  be  incidental  to  the  system." 

Frank  left  the  room,  and  returned  with  the  knife. 

"  It  is  the  identical  knife,"  said  Emily,  as  she  ex- 
amined it ;  "  for  here  is  the  letter  N,  which  I  scratched 


524  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

upon  the  handle  with  a  pin.  It  was  given  to  her  by 
Nehemiah,  with  the  injunction  to  kill  Moloch,  if  he  at- 
tempted abuse  upon  her  person.  Oh,  could  she  have 
known  and  escaped,  I  could  have  received  her  as  a 
sister." 

"  And  Fanny,"  said  Dr.  Willis,  "  was,  no  doubt,  a 
free-born  citizen  of  Ohio.  She  was  kidnapped ;  and, 
after  spending  several  years  in  a  vile  prison  in  slavery, 
made  her  escape ;  was  seized  again  under  the  Fugitive 
Law;  and,  without  a  trial,  sent  back  into  slavery. 
Such  is  now  my  country !  I  have  a  record  of  crime, 
which,  at  some  future  time,  I  design  to  lay  before  the 
nation." 

Emily  was  much  affected.  At  length  she  said  to 
Dr.  Willis,  "  I  desire  to  have  you  inform  me  what  was 
the  power  which  you  held  over  Livingsworth." 

"  It  was  this,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  He  had  an  only 
sister,  at  one  time  the  belle  of  the  place.  I  attended 
upon  that  sister,  when  she  gave  birth  to  a  mulatto  child. 
She  afterwards  married  a  Northern  man,  and  he  re- 
moved to  the  South.  It  is  said  that  they  do  not  live 
agreeably,  although  they  move  in  the  highest  circles. 
Livingsworth  has  often  spoken  to  me  upon  the  sub- 
ject, fearing  that  I  would  betray  the  secret." 

"  Oh,  horrible  Jj'  said  Emily. 

"  But  this  was  not  all,"  said  the  doctor.  "  The  child 
was  a  healthy  child.  I  left  it  well  at  night,  and,  the 
next  morning,  I  found  it  dying.  I  was  satisfied  that 
laudanum  caused  its  death." 

It  was  evening  again,  and  there  was  quite  a  social 
party  assembled.  Dr.  Willis  said :  "  I  have  here  the 
dying  confession  of  Jew  David,  which  he  dictated,  and 


NEW  DISCLOSUEES.  525 

I  wrote  with  my  own  hand,  the  day  before  he  was 
executed.  It  unfolds  much  iniquity.  That  you  may 
know  the  whole  of  slavery  and  its  many  hydra-heads,  I 
propose  to  read  it  aloud."  *. 

"  Will  you  not  wait,"  said  Ella,  "  until  my  father 
and  Dr.  Freeman  enter?  They  are  now  in  Mr.  Le 
Roy's  room." 

In  a  few  minutes  these  gentlemen  came  in,  and  Dr. 
Willis  read  aloud 

THE    DYING    CONFESSION    OF    JEW    DAVID. 

The  Jew  said :  "  To-morrow  I  must  die.  Dr.  Willis 
says  there  is  a  God ;  if  so,  I  must  meet  him  before  to- 
morrow night.  I  was  an  honest  man,  when  I  came  to 
this  city.  I  would  not  steal  or  murder.  All  I  then  did 
was  to  make  good  bargains,  and  get  money.  Some 
time  after  my  arrival  here,  twelve  men  came  to  me  ■ — 
they  were  rich  men,  and  more  than  half  of  them  were 
members  of  churches  —  who  offered  me  money,  if  I 
would  join  them  in  kidnapping  children,  and  in  stealing 
horses  and  other  things.  I  did  not  like  to  do  it,  for 
Rachel,  my  mother,  told  me  to  be  always  honest ;  but 
they  urged  me  so  strongly,  and  offered  so  many  induce- 
ments, that  I  consented.  They  then  helped  me  to  build 
the  house  where  I  was  arrested. 

"  At  first,  we  had  a  sort  of  plantation  there.  I  soon 
found  out  that  the  men  with  whom  I  was  associated 
were  connected  with  the  Murrell  gang.  They  told  me 
they  wanted  me  to  kidnap  women  and  children ;  and  I 
did  so.  Some  of  the  gang  would  come  and  take  those 
away  who  were  kidnapped,  and  sell  them.  They 
would  then  meet  at  my  house,  as  they  called  it,  and  we 
would  divide  the  money. 


526  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  I  finally  wanted  to  go  to  the  city  to  live,  so  that  I 
could  traffic  in  better  things.  I  soon  afterwards  went 
back  to  my  own  country  for  my  brother  Moloch.  We 
were  returning  on  board  the  same  ship  with  Dr.  "Willis 
and  his  two  children.  I  was  looking  about,  to  see  if  I 
could  see  anything  to  steal,  when,  during  a  storm,  I 
saw  a  lady  have  a  small  trunk  of  gold,  and  also  some 
valuable  gold  bracelets.  I  got  hold  of  the  trunk  and 
one  bracelet,  and  secreted  them.  The  storm  had  abated, 
and  the  captain  said  we  should  enter  the  harbor  in 
safety.  I  then  took  an  auger,  went  below,  and  bored 
some  holes  in  the  side  of  the  ship.  I  waited  until  the 
water  rose  above  the  holes,  and  then  I  told  Moloch  to 
give  the  alarm,  that  'the  vessel  was  sinking.'  The 
boat  was  lowered  by  a  sailor,  who  understood  my  game ; 
the  women  and  children  were  placed  into  it,  when 
Moloch  and  I  instantly  jumped  in,  and  left  the  ship. 

"  There  were  in  the  boat  three  women,  five  children, 
and  a  boy.  We  had  secured  the  trunk  and  bracelet 
which  I  had  stolen,  and  brought  them  with  us.  When 
we  had  got  a  short  distance  from  the  ship,  one  of  the 
women  screamed,  and  I  pushed  her  overboard,  and  she 
was  lost.  The  other  women  and  children,  with  the 
boy,  we  took  directly  to  my  house.  The  trunk  I  hid  in 
a  hole,  dug  for  that  purpose  on  the  beach.  I  told  the 
truth,  when  I  said  that  Nehemiah  was  Dr.  Willis'  son, 
and  that  I  gave  his  other  child  to  a  Frenchman,  who 
was  on  board  of  a  vessel,  just  leaving  port. 

"  Mrs.  Le  Roy  was  the  handsomest  woman  of  the 
whole,  and  I  made  her  my  wife.  She  did  all  my  work 
for  a  great  while ;  and,  when  she  would  fret  and  cry 
about  her  child,  I  would  pound  and  Icick  her ;  and,  at 
last,  in  anger,  I  pushed   her   into   the  well,  and  then 


NEW   DISCLOSURES.  527 

threw  quicklime  over  her.  Her  brother's  name  was 
Marsells  De  Wolfe.  I  dared  not  take  either  of  them 
from  the  house ;  for  they  had  a  brother,  Albert,  in  the 
city.  Marsells  became  deranged,  and  I  chained  him  to 
the  floor.  He  used  to  yell  so  much,  and  talk  about 
France  so  continually,  that  I  got  enraged,  one  day,  and 
sprang  upon  him,  got  him  by  the  throat,  and  choked 
him  to  death.  I  threw  the  body  into  the  old  well, 
where  I  put  Mrs.  Le  Roy.  After  this  I  left,  and  lived 
in  the  city,  while  Moloch  stayed  in  our  prison,  for  such 
it  was  now. 

"  Mariana  was  a  free  woman.  We  murdered  her 
husband,  and  got  a  large  sum  of  money.  Her  children 
were  sold ;  and  her  brother  we  got  condemned  for  a 
murder  that  I  committed.  Fanny  was  free,  and  kid- 
napped from  Ohio. 

"  There  is  a  band  of  kidnappers  organized  in  the 
South,  who  operate  in  the  North.  The  men  who  first 
led  me  into  this  business  are,  some  of  them,  still  living, 
and  are  called  respectable  men ;  but  they  ought  to  be 
exposed  and  hung,  as  well  as  me ;  for  they  have  been  the 
means  of  my  committing  many  crimes,  and  coming  to 
this  awful  punishment.  They  promised  to  clear  me,  if 
ever  I  got  into  trouble ;  and  now  they  dare  not  come 
near  me.  If  there  is  a  God,  I  hope  he  will  forgive 
me!" 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Ersldne,  as  the  doctor  finished 
reading,  "  must  never  come  to  the  knowledge  of  Mr. 
Le  Roy." 

"  He  has  already  seen  it,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It  was 
for  the  very  purpose  of  showing  it  to  him  I  visited  him 
in  his  room  yesterday.  He  had  been  looking  forward 
to  the  execution  of  the  Jew,  hoping  that  I  might  in- 


528  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

duce  him  to  make  a  full  confession,  that  thus  he  might 
learn  particulars  as  to  what  was  the  true  fate  of  his 
wife.  This  I  could  only  obtain  by  pledging  myself 
that  I  would  not  appear  against  Moloch,  if  he  were 
indicted  for  murder.  And,  even  t!>cn,  he  would  not, 
until  I  could  assure  him  that  Moloch  had  left  Amer- 
ica. But  slavery  must  fall.  The  crimes  of  slavery 
must  meet  the  eye  of  the  nation ;  yes,  of  every  nation" 

"  Amen,"  said  Edward, "  for  thus  have  I  before  said." 

"  That  has  been  my  prayer,"  responded  Emily ;  "  and 
let  it  be  done  quickly." 

"  Such  is  my  earnest  hope,"  said  Frank,  "  and  God 
grant  that  it  may  reach  my  mother's  heart,  while  she 
has  time  for  repentance." 

"  The  house  and  lot  of  Mr.  Brownson  is  to  be  sold 
to-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Erskine  to  Dr.  Willis.  "Will 
you  attend  ? " 

"  Why  is  that  ?  Has  George  determined  to  take  up 
his  residence  at  the  South  ?  "  said  Edward. 

"  George  is  in  Missouri,"  replied  Mr.  Erskine,  "  but 
the  place  is  under  an  attachment  for  debts,  which  he 
contracted  while  in  college  and  in  Kentucky.  He  rep- 
resented himself  as  being  very  rich,  made  heavy  loans, 
which  he  could  not  pay,  and  left  in  disgrace." 

Dr.  Willis  did  attend  the  sale,  and  returned  home 
the  owner  of  the  place. 

"  You  have  told  me  nothing  of  Mariana,"  said  Em- 
ily one  day  to  the  doctor ;  "  and  1  have  feared  to 
inquire,  lest  I  might  hear  that  she  met  a  fate  like 
Fanny's." 

"  Mariana  has  herself  gone  to  the  Governor  of ■, 

in  behalf  of  her  brother.     I  saw  her  start;    and  she 
manifested   the  energy  of  her   countryman,  '  Sir  Wil- 


NEW  DISCLOSURES.  529 

liam  Wallace,'  as  we  have  it  in  Goldsmith's  History 
of  England.  She  declares  she  will  spend  her  life  in 
finding  her  children.  She  has  written  to  her  brother  in 
Scotland  of  her  wrongs ;  and  she  has  no  doubt  but 
that  he  will  come  over  to  her  assistance.  She  has 
promised  to  keep  me  advised,  by  letter,  of  her  success. 
I  wrote  once  to  Scotland  in  her  behalf,  but  have  received 
no  answer,  and  it  is  possible  her  brother  is  dead." 

It  was  decided  that  Mr.  Le  Roy  should  travel  with 
Edith,  and  the  next  day  saw  them  depart. 

45 


CHAPTER    LII. 


THE    DEATH    OF    MR.    LE    ROY. 


It  was  some  three  months  after  the  events  narrated  in 

our  last  chapter,  that  Mr.  Le  Roy  returned  to  C ,  in 

company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Irving. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  he  to  Edward,  "  to  lay  my  re- 
mains by  the  side  of  my  child,  your  mother." 

It  was  night,  and  Edith  stood  by  the  couch  of  her 
grandfather.  He  was  sleeping ;  but  he  at  length 
awoke,  and  said, "  I  am  going  now.     Call  them  all." 

Edith  soon  returned  with  them;  and  they  stood  by  the 
dying  bed  of  the  old  man.  He  reached  out  his  hand, 
and  each  took  it  in  turn,  as  he  said,  "  God  bless  you !  " 
There  was  scarce  any  indication  that  life  was  extinct 
— so  free  from  pain  had  been  his  last  moments. 

It  would  be  vain  to  endeavor  to  portray  the  grief  of 
his  sorrowing  grandchildren  and  friends.  There  was  a 
soothing  consolation  to  their  affliction,  however,  in  the 
thought  that  he  had  only  put  off  the  mortal  to  array 
himself  in  that  immortal  garb,  which  brings  to  its 
wearer  those  priceless  boons — a  Saviour's  blessing,  and 
a  habitation  in  that  "  mansion,  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens." 

Edward    and   Ella   still  reside   in  C ,  and   are 

happy.     Emily,  or  Edith,  is  the  wife  of  a  statesman. 

Frank  Le  Rux  has  made  the  tour  of  Europe,  in 
company  with  Mr.  Brinsmade  and  Horatio  Willis  — 

(530) 


DEATH   OF  MR.   LE   ROY.  531 

who  is  much  improved  by  his  travels.  They  visited 
France  for  the  purpose  of  attending  to  the  affairs  of 
Mr.  Le  Roy. 

"  Now,"  said  Frank  to  Edith,  "  I  must  away  to  the 
field  of  action." 

"  But  will  you  not  take  a  wife  to  that  new  Terri- 
tory ? "  said  Edith.  "  I  cannot  think  of  your  having 
no  one  to  sympathize  with,  and  take  care  of  you,  when 
you  are  ill.     How  do  you  like  Miss  Olmstead  ?  " 

Frank  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "  Very 
well  indeed.  She  appears  amiable,  and  is  rather  inter- 
esting ;  but  she  will  not  do  for  that  country.  She  has 
not  the  self-denying  spirit  which  would  be  needed  by 
my  wife.  No,  no,  cousin,  let  me  go  alone.  I  must 
wait  for  a  wife,  until  I  lose  my  heart." 

"  It  is  strange  that  you  have  never  done  that,"  said 
Edith.  "  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  lost 
it  during  your  stay  in  France ;  and  that,  when  it  was 
understood  you  were  one  of  the  heirs  of  Mr.  Le  Roy, 
you  would  have  had  no  trouble  in  bringing  a  wife  to 
America." 

"  Cousin,"  said  Frank,  while  his  countenance  be- 
trayed a  look  of  melancholy,  "  had  I  been  as  Albert  De 
Wolfe  was  when  he  fell  in  with  Mary,  and  Julia  De 
Wolfe  been  as  Mary  was  at  the  time  that  Albert  re- 
turned from  Europe,  I  should  doubtless  have  fallen  as 
he  did ;  for  I  loved  Julia  De  Wolfe  !  But,  being  as 
I  was,  when  I  first  saw  her,  there  was  no  danger.  I 
see  how  it  was  with  Albert,  and  how  it  is  with  thou- 
sands who  follow  in  the  same  train ;  and  I  tell  you, 
that  slavery  entails  a  curse  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion. It  is  this  which  I  feel  I  must  tell  the  nation. 
Could  you  blame  me,   cousin,    for   loving  Julia   De 


532  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Wolfe  ?  Have  you  ever  met  one  whose  virtues  stood 
out  in  bolder  relief?  Was  she  not  handsome  in  person 
and  feature  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Edith ;  "  but,  although  I  saw 
all  this,  and  felt  my  own  heart  drawn  towards  her,  it 
never  entered  my  mind  that  you  could  not  see  and  feel 
for  her  as  I  did,  without  loving  her." 

"  If  I  ever  have  my  heart  touched  again,  I  will  inform 
you  at  once,"  said  Frank.  "  Let  them  talk  of  amal- 
gamation :  I  will  meet  the  whole  world,  and  tell  them 
what  amalgamation  is  at  the  South.  Let  them  point 
me  to  a  family  there,  if  they  can,  who  have  not  the  sin 
to  answer  for.  And  I  will  tell  them,  too,  what  kind  of 
amalgamation  goes  on  there.  I  will  point  them  to 
the  plantation ;  to  the  auction,  where  they  sell  human 
beings.  I  will  point  them  to  the  slave-mother,  when 
she  lifts  her  white  child  in  her  arms,  and  says, '  Dis  be 
mas'r's  own  child.'  I  will  bid  them  listen  to  her 
screams,  when  it  is  torn  from  her,  for  the  paltry  price  of 
a  few  dollars.  I  will  point  them  to  that  mother,  when 
she  puts  the  knife  to  her  throat,  or  plunges  into  the 
Mississippi,  because  her  heart  is  broken,  and  she  is  in 
dark  despair.  And,  when  I  have  done  this,  I  will 
remind  them  of  the  scenes  that  will  occur,  when  they 
meet  those  mothers  and  children  in  eternity ;  and  bid 
them  wait  until  then  to  talk  of  amalgamation  !  " 

Frank  was  exceedingly  agitated,  and  Edith  was  in 
tears.  It  seemed  to  her,  for  a  few  moments,  that  she 
was  again  leaning  over  the  bed  of  Julia.  She  seemed 
to  see  Dinah,  and  her  uncle  and  aunt.  Frank  could 
scarcely  allay  his  agitation ;  and,  as  he  arose  to  leave 
the  room,  she  heard  him  say,  "  O  my  mother!  " 


DEATH   OP   MR.   LE   ROY.  533 

"  I  will  write  to  her,"  thought  Emily,  as  she  sought 
her  own  chamber,  where  she  wrote  as  follows : 

"  C ,  ,  18—. 

"  My  Aunt,  —  For  such,  at  this  moment,  I  feel  that 
I  must  call  you.  I  have  just,  as  it  were,  been  living 
over  again  a  portion  of  the  time  I  spent  in  your  family 
in  New  Orleans.  It  was  that  part  of  the  time  when  I 
stood  by  the  deathbed  of  Julia.  Frank  was  with  me, 
and  I  have  no  doubt,  from  his  manner,  but  that  he  too 
was  living  in  imagination  those  scenes  over  again,  for 
he  was  agitated  while  I  wept. 

"  Frank  leaves  to-morrow  for ,  to  devote  his 

life,  and  all  the  energies  of  his  mind  and  spirit,  to  the 
cause  of  freedom.  As  he  left  the  room  where  we  had 
been  conversing,  I  heard  him  say,  '  My  mother;'  and  I 
know  what  were  his  feelings.  Shall  I  tell  you,  aunt, 
what  were  his  thoughts  ?  I  cannot  hear  your  answer  ; 
but  I  must  tell  you,  for  I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty.  He 
was  thinking  of  your  lost  and  ruined  condition  —  of 
what  would  be  your  situation  after  death,  when  you 
should  appear  before  God  in  all  the  darkness  which 
now  rests  upon  your  soul ;  for,  believe  me,  as  you  live, 
so  will  you  die.  We  were  put  into  this  rudimental 
sphere,  to  prepare  for  another  sphere  of  existence,  when 
our  spirits  leave  the  body.  When  that  takes  place  with 
me,  I  trust  I  shall  enter  that  abode,  where  it  will  be  the 
delight  of  myself  and  spirit  companions  to  exercise  all 
our  spiritual  faculties  in  doing  good.  But  you,  aunt, 
must  expect  to  enter  that  place  where  they  delight  only 
in  cruelty. 

"  You  cannot  leave  this  world  with  your  present  load 
of  sins  upon  your  head  —  the  sin  of  being  a  slaveholder, 

45* 


534  THE   CURSE  ENTAILED. 

and  treating  your  fellow  beings  cruelly  —  under  the 
expectation  of  going  to  any  other  place  than  where 
those  dwell  who  possess  the  same  mind  and  spirit  as 
yourself.  Let  me  tell  you  that  there  you  will  be 
awfully  miserable.  The  God  whom  you  must  meet  is 
a  God  of  justice  and  of  mercy.  He  is  a  holy  God.  You 
cannot  dwell  with  him  until  you  exercise  some  of  the 
attributes  of  mercy  and  loving  kindness  upon  earth. 

"  This  is,  perhaps,  the  last  time  you  will  hear  from 
me  in  this  world ;  and  it  is  likely,  if  you  continue  in 
your  present  course,  we  will  be  separated  in  eternity. 
Farewell.  Edith  E.  Irving." 


CHAPTER    LV. 


THE    CONCLUSION. 


It  was  about  two  years  after  the  events  recorded  in 
our  last  chapter,  that  Frank  Le  Rux  and  Dr.  Willis 
were  sitting  in  front  of  a  building  attached  to  one  of 
the  fashionable  watering-places  at  the  North.  They 
were  in  earnest  conversation,  when  they  were  led  to 
observe  an  elderly  lady,  attended  by  a  young  lady  and 
gentleman,  who  was  just  about  to  alight  from  a  car- 
riage. The  ladies  were  in  deep  mourning,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  elder  one  was  ill. 

The  young  man  was  soon  out  of  the  carriage,  and 
was  about  helping  the  younger  lady  out,  when  a  gen- 
tleman approached,  and,  without  speaking,  offered  his 
hand  to  aid  her  in  alighting.  She  evidently  disliked 
the  intrusion,  for  her  face  reddened,  and  she  partially 
drew  back ;  then,  casting  her  eyes  round  to  see  if  she 
was  observed,  she  accepted  his  assistance.  The  elderly 
lady  now  alighted  from  the  carriage,  with  the  aid  of 
the  two  gentlemen ;  and,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  him 
who  attended  her  from  the  carriage,  she  was  moving  off, 
when  the  young  lady,  feeling  annoyed  and  evidently 
vexed  at  the  presence  of  the  intruder,  stepped  between 
him  and  the  invalid  lady,  saying,  as  she  did  so,  "  Lean 
upon  my  arm,  mother  —  I  am  quite  strong." 

It  was  evident  that  the  old  lady  was  not  displeased 
at  being  liberated  from  the  attendance  of  the  other  gen- 

(535> 


536  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

tleman,  for  her  countenance  expressed  satisfaction. 
The  intruder  was  disconcerted ;  but  he  kept  his  ground, 
and  walked  by  the  side  of  the  young  lady.  As  the 
porter  appeared  at  the  door,  the  young  man  who  was 
in  attendance  upon  the  ladies  handed  him  a  card.  The 
porter  said,  as  he  glanced  at  it,  "  Yes,  the  rooms  have 
been  reserved,  and  are  well  fitted  up."  Our  friends 
soon  afterwards  heard  them  ascending  the  stairs. 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Livingsworth,  and  her  son  and  daughter, 
from  New  Orleans,"  said  Dr.  Willis  to  Frank,  as  he 
heard  the  last  sound  upon  the  stairs.  "  They  are  in 
deep  mourning  —  Livingsworth  must  be  dead." 

"  I  never  knew  much  of  the  family,"  said  Frank, 
"  and  did  not  recognize  them.  I  thought  I  had  before 
seen  the  face  of  the  gentle  man  who  joined  them  at  the 
carriage,  but  I  was  not  able  to  call  to  mind  where  I  had 
seen  him." 

"  It  was  Johnson,  of  New  Orleans,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  You  certainly  must  recollect  him." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Frank ;  "  yet  I  had  not  met  him 
for  more  than  two  years  before  I  left  the  city." 

"  He  is  evidently  desirous  of  pleasing  Miss  Livings- 
worth,  while  she  is  much  annoyed  by  his  attentions ; 
and  I  tell  you,  Frank,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  arm,  "  if  she  is  as  she  used  to  be,  she  is 
a  treasure,  and  far  too  good  for  Johnson.  I  cannot  tell 
what  they  have  made  of  her  since  I  last  saw  her,  by 
training.  Her  mother  was  a  New  England  woman,  and 
married  Livingsworth  under  the  impression  that  he  was 
a  man  of  honor.  She  soon  found  out  her  mistake ;  but 
she  held  a  power  over  Minda,  much  to  the  discomfiture 
of  her  father." 

Miss  Livingsworth  appeared  at  the  dinner-table,  at- 


THE  CONCLUSION.  537 

tended  by  her  brother,  evidently  a  man  of  fashion. 
She  was  seated  by  her  brother's  side,  nearly  opposite 
Frank  and  Dr.  Willis.  Johnson  seated  himself  upon 
the  other  side  of  her,  and  attempted  to  be  very  polite. 
Miss  Livingsworth  did  not  raise  her  eyes;  but  she 
seemed  ill  at  ease,  and,  after  making  a  scanty  dinner, 
she  arose  and  returned  to  her  own  room.  The  eyes  of 
her  brother  were  turned  after  her  in  anger,  and  a  frown 
gathered  upon  the  face  of  Johnson. 

Dr.  Willis  was  in  his  room.  It  joined  that  of  Mrs. 
Livingsworth.     He  heard  harsh  words.     He  listened. 

"  I  cannot  go  out  this  afternoon,  brother,"  he  heard 
Minda  say. 

"It  is  only  to  avoid  Johnson,"  said  her  brother;  "and 
you  will  repent  the  indignity  you  offer  him." 

"  It  is  only  to  avoid  Johnson,"  replied  the  young  girl, 
"  I  acknowledge.  Have  I  not  before  told  you  that  I 
would  not  receive  his  attentions  ?  I  have,"  continued 
Minda ;  "  and  is  it  not  cruel  in  you,  Alonzo,  thus  to 
press  me  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply.  Alonzo  left  the  room  hurriedly, 
and  it  was  evident  to  the  doctor  that  he  left  in  anger. 

"  Here  is  a  card  for  the  sick  lady,  Mrs.  Livingsworth, 
in  No.  — ,"  said  Dr.  Willis  to  the  porter,  after  he  had 
descended  the  stairs.  "  I  will  await  a  reply  in  the 
parlor." 

The  porter  was  not  long  in  delivering  the  card ;  and, 
in  a  few  minutes,  Miss  Minda  Livingsworth  entered 
the  parlor. 

"  Nothing  could  give  my  mother  more  joy,"  said  she, 
as  the  doctor  arose  to  meet  her.  "  I  also  feel  a  joy  in 
meeting  you,  which  I  cannot  express.  My  mother  de- 
sires your  attendance  immediately  in  her  room.    She  is 


538  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

ill,  and  she  desires  to  express  to  you  her  thanks  for  so 
kindly  sending  her  your  card."  And  Minda  arose  to 
conduct  him  to  the  room  of  her  mother. 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  the  doctor,  "  have  you  lost  your 
father?" 

"  I  have,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  died  about  six 
months  since.  He  never  recovered  from  the  wound  he 
received  by  a  pistol-shot,  in  an  affray  with  an  assassin, 
some  years  ago." 

The  doctor  was  not  disconcerted ;  for  he  had  known 
such  was  the  story  that  Livingsworth  told  his  family, 
after  he  received  the  wound  by  the  hand  of  Emily  Le 
Rux,  in  the  prison-house  of  Jew  David. 

There  was  a  tear  in  the  eye  of  Minda,  as  the  doctor 
followed  her  from  the  room  to  the  chamber  of  her 
mother.  Mrs.  Livingsworth  was  sitting  up  to  receive 
the  doctor.  She  took  his  hand  with  much  warmth,  and 
said : 

"  This  is  a  surprise  which  I  could  not  have  antici- 
pated, sir ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  conceive  of 
the  satisfaction  it  gives  me." 

"  It  is  also  an  unexpected  meeting  to  me,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  and  let  me  assure  you  that  it  is,  too,  a  satis- 
faction to  me.  I  have  always  felt  an  interest  in  your 
welfare ;  and,  at  the  time  I  visited  in  your  family  in 
New  Orleans,  I  was  also  exceedingly  interested  in 
your  children.  But  tell  me,"  continued  he,  "  have  you 
been  long  ill  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  ill  for  more  than  one  year,"  replied 
Mrs.  Livingsworth ;  "  and  I  find  myself  more  unwell 
this  morning.  I  have,  I  think,  taken  some  cold  since 
leaving  New  York,  where  we  spent  one  week.  I  am 
also  much  fatigued." 


THE   CONCLUSION.  539 

The  doctor  felt  her  pulse.  His  countenance  assumed 
a  look  of  anxiety,  as  he  said :  "  Your  travelling  has  no 
doubt  fatigued  you ;  and  I  would  advise  rest  for  a  few 
days." 

"  Have  you  observed  Miss  Livingsworth  particu- 
larly ?  "  said  Dr.  Willis  to  Frank,  as  they  arose  from 
the  dinner-table  the  next  day,  and  entered  the  street 
together. 

"  I  have  observed  her  narrowly,"  replied  Frank;  "and 
am  much  pleased  with  her  appearance.  But  she  looks 
unhappy." 

"  That  she  doubtless  is,"  replied  the  doctor ;  "  for  she 
has  lost  her  father,  and  her  mother  is  now  very  ill. 
But  there  is  another  cause  for  her  being  unhappy. 
Her  mother  has  intrusted  me  with  the  secret,  and  I  am 
now  going  to  tell  it  to  you,  for  Minda  must  be  deliv- 
ered forthwith  from  the  dilemma  in  which  she  is  placed. 
You  know  the  character  of  Livingsworth.  Notwith- 
standing his  heartlessness  in  other  things,  he  prided 
himself  on  his  children,  particularly  his  daughter.  Mrs. 
Livingsworth  was,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  a  New 
England  woman.  She  became  acquainted  with  Liv- 
ingsworth at  the  North,  and  married  him  within  six 
months  after  their  first  interview,  with  the  approbation 
of  her  parents,  and  went  South.  She  soon  saw,"  con- 
tinued the  doctor,  "  the  guilt  of  slavery,  and  has  led  an 
unhappy  life.  Although  Livingsworth  was  one  of 
the  sly  ones,  and  she  never  fully  understood  his  charac- 
ter, yet  she  found  him  lacking  in  honor,  and  it  grieved 
her  much. 

"  She  informs  me  that  her  father  had  a  large  family, 
and  that  she  is  the  last  one  —  they  all  having  died  of 
consumption.     Minda  often  visited  at  the  North ;  and 


540  THE    CURSE    ENTAILED. 

her  father  said,  she  imbibed  abolition  principles  there ; 
but  her  mother  told  him  that  '  Minda  was  born  an 
abolitionist.'  Be  that  as  it  may,  she  is  an  abolitionist. 
Her  father  saw  it,  and  it  perplexed  him  much. 

"  Johnson  visited  at  the  house  before  Livingsworth's 
death,  and  asked  the  hand  of  Minda,  in  marriage, 
which  she  refused  —  her  mother  approving  her  decis- 
ion. Her  father  died ;  and,  upon  opening  the  will,  it 
was  found  that  he  had  made  no  provision  for  Minda, 
except  she  married  Johnson.  This  she  refused  to  do. 
Johnson  informed  Mrs.  Livingsworth  that  the  whole 
estate  was  under  a  mortgage  to  him,  and  it  depended 
entirely  upon  Minda's  complying  with  his  wishes, 
whether  they  had  any  longer  a  home.  He  had  also 
the  presumption  to  tell  her,  that  the  debts  to  himself 
were  contracted  by  her  husband  in  borrowing  money  to 
pay  his  gambling  debts. 

"  Mrs.  Livingsworth  was  at  the  time  ill ;  and  this 
information  gave  a  shock  to  her  nerves  from  which  she 
has  not  recovered.  Johnson  then  went  to  work  to  in- 
gratiate himself  into  the  favor  of  young  Livingsworth, 
and  has  succeeded.  This  has  added  another  'pang  to 
the  heart  of  his  sick  mother.  The  last  brother  of  Mrs. 
Livingsworth  died  in  the  Indies.  He  was  a  bachelor, 
and  left  all  his  property  to  Minda,  who  was  his  favor- 
ite. This  she  is  to  receive  on  her  wedding-day,  if  she 
marries  before  she  is  twenty-one ;  and,  if  not,  she  is  to 
come  in  possession  of  it  at  that  time.  This  Mrs.  Liv- 
ingsworth thinks  her  son  has  communicated  to  John- 
son. It  was  this,  more  than  the  visit  here,  which 
brought  them  North,  as  the  deceased  brother's  agent 
resides  in  New  York." 


THE    CONCLUSION.  541 

"  O  brother,"  said  Minda,  as  she  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  arm,  "  why  do  you  look  so  angrily  at  me  to-day  1 " 
A  tear  came  in  her  eye  as  she  spoke,  and  she  raised  jher 
handkerchief,  sank  upon  a  seat;  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Alonzo  was  touched.  He  advanced,  and  putting  his 
arm  around  her,  said :  "  I  do  not  wish  to  grieve  you, 
sister ;  but  what  are  we  to  do  ?  Johnson  left  this 
morning,  swearing  that  he  would  close  the  mortgage 
on  the  estate  within  twenty-four  hours  after  arriving  in 
New  Orleans." 

"  Has  he  gone  ?  "  said  Minda,  as  she  lifted  her  eyes, 
while,  for  an  instant,  her  countenance  assumed  its 
wonted  expression.  "  Oh !  how  glad  I  am  !  "  But 
her  countenance  again  changed  to  that  of  sorrow,  as 
she  met  her  brother's  eye.  These  had  been  the  first 
kind  words  he  had  spoken  to  her  for  many  days ;  and 
now  his  looks  again  betrayed  anger. 

"  Do  not  look  at  me  thus,  brother,"  said  Minda. 
"  You  are  breaking  my  heart ;  besides,  I  must  tell  you 
something  which  will  pain  you.  Our  mother  is  worse 
than  she  was,  and  she  is  grieved  at  your  absence." 

"  Does  she  think  that  I  am  to  have  no  pleasure  here  ? 

I  only  attended  Johnson  to ,  and  was  absent  but 

forty-eight  hours." 

"  Listen,  brother,"  said  Minda,  "  for  I  must  tell  you. 
Dr.  Willis  says  that  our  mother  cannot  live  long,  and 
that  she  is  dying  of  a  broken  heart !  " 

The  young  man  seemed  taken  by  surprise.  He 
turned  pale,  and,  for  some  moments,  could  not  speak. 
At  length  he  said : 

"  But  you  do  not  believe  it,  Minda  ?  " 

"  My  mother  says  that  Dr.  Willis  makes  no  mistakes 
in  cases  of  this  kind,"  replied  Minda. 
46 


542  THE   CURSE   ENTAILED. 

"  Oh,  this  is  indeed  dreadful  news  for  me!  I  did  not 
think  her  in  the  least  danger.  But  tell  me,  Minda,  how 
long  does  the  doctor  think  she  will  live  ?  " 

"  He  says  it  is  uncertain ;  perhaps  three  months  or 
six,  according  to  circumstances.  He  says,  also,  that 
she  must  be  removed  from  this  place,  to  one  where  she 
can  have  more  quiet,  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  young  man  arose,  and  walked  the  room  hur- 
riedly. At  length  he  said,  "  What  does  my  mother 
say?" 

"  She  is  very  calm,  although  she  is  distressed  at  the 
thought  of  leaving  us  thus  friendless.  She  says  that 
death  is  not  a  terror  to  her.  But  I  am  leaving  her  too 
long,"  said  Minda,  as  she  arose,  saying,  "  Come, 
brother  ;  she  will  be  rejoiced  at  your  return." 

"  I  cannot  meet  her  now ;  but  tell  her  I  have  re- 
turned, and  will  soon  attend  her." 

****** 

Alonzo  sat  by  his  mother.  She  took  his  hand  in 
hers,  and  said,  "  Minda  has  informed  you  that  we  must 
leave  this  place  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  young  man,  sorrowfully ;  but  his 
eyes  were  not  raised  to  meet  those  of  his  mother, 
which  were  fixed  searchingly  upon  him.  She  relin- 
quished his  hand,  leaned  her  head  back,  and  sighed. 
Alonzo  arose  to  his  feet,  while  the  tears  coursed  down 
his  cheeks.  He  walked  the  room  for  some  minutes,  in 
deep  thought.  At  this  instant,  Dr.  Willis  entered  the 
room.  He  bowed  politely  to  Alonzo,  and  proffered  his 
hand,  which  the  young  man  took,  appearing  still  more 
agitated. 

"  I  am  happy  to  meet  you,"  said  Dr.  Willis,  "  as  I 
have  come  to  consult  your  mother  about  a  subject  of 


THE   CONCLUSION.  543 

much  importance  to  herself;  and  she  will,  doubtless, 
need  your  counsel." 

The  doctor  spoke  in  a  kindly  and  respectful  manner, 
and  Alonzo  soon  recovered  his  composure,  and  seated 
himself  near  his  mother. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Dr.  Willis,  addressing  Mrs. 
Livingsworth,  "to  invite  you,  with  your  son  and  daugh- 
ter, to  go  with  me  to  my  home,  where  you  shall  be  well 
attended  during  your  illness;  and  I  promise  you,  in 
case  of  your  death,  I  will  act  the  part  of  adviser  to 
your  children." 

Mrs.  Livingsworth  cast  a  look  at  Alonzo. 

"  Decide  as  your  own  judgment  dictates,  mother," 
said  the  young  man.  "  I  read  your  thoughts  in  your 
looks.  But  I  am  ready  to  attend  you  wherever  you 
may  decide  it  best  that  you  should  go." 

About  three  months  after  this,  Frank  Le  Rux  was 
sitting  in  the  room  of  Mrs.  Livingsworth.  Beside  him 
sat  a  beautiful  lady,  arrayed  in  a  plain  white  dress.  It 
was  Minda  Livingsworth.  In  her  hair  was  a  pure 
white  rose,  which  had  been  placed  there  by  the  hand 
of  her  invalid  mother  but  a  few  minutes  be|bre.  The 
room  was  still  and  quiet.  Raised  in  the  bed,  and  sup- 
ported by  pillows,  was  Mrs.  Livingsworth.  Dr.  Willis 
entered  the  room,  accompanied  by  Edward  Le  Rux 
and  his  wife,  who  spoke  a  few  words  of  congratulation, 
and  then  seated  themselves,  noiselessly.  A  short  time 
after,  Alonzo  entered  the  chamber,  accompanied  by  a 
clergyman,  who  advanced  to  the  bed,  and  conversed 
for  a  short  time  with  the  invalid. 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  Dr.  Willis  approached 
Mrs.   Livingsworth,  and   inquired   if   she  was  ready. 


;"4'4:  THE    CURSE   ENTAILED. 

Frank  and  Minda,  at  his  request,  stood  on  one  side  of 
the  bed,  —  the  clergyman  on  the  other.  The  minister, 
in  a  solemn  and  impressive  voice,  then  performed  the 
marriage  ceremony,  pronouncing  Frank  and  Minda 
husband  and  wife.  Frank,  Minda,  and  Alonzo,  dropped 
upon  their  knees  beside  the  bed,  and  the  clergyman 
commended  all  to  the  care  and  guidance  of  God. 

"  God  bless  you  all,  my  children,"  said  the  sick 
mother. 

All  now  retired,  save  Frank,  Minda,  and  Alonzo,  who 
occupied  themselves  in  pleasurable  conversation,  while 
their  mother  slept. 

"  Alonzo !  My  children ! "  said  the  mother,  as  she 
awoke. 

Instantly  the  three  were  by  her  side. 

"  Alonzo,"  said  she,  "  you  will  go  with  Frank  and 
Minda?1" 

"  I  will,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"  This  is  my  last  and  dying  request,"  said  his  mother. 
"  You  may  all  now  retire,  and  send  Dr.  Willis  to  me." 

They  obeyed,  and  Dr.  Willis  soon  entered. 

"  You  have  my  instructions  to  my  children,"  said 
she  ;  "  give  them  to  my  son  after  my  funeral." 

The  doctor  bowed  assent. 

"  I  have  one  request  more,  Dr.  Willis.  It  is  that  you 
watch  over  my  son,  after  I  am  gone ;  for  I  yet  fear 
Johnson's  influence." 

"  Do  not*fear,"  said  Dr.  Willis.  "  I  will  watch  him 
as  I  would  my  own  son." 

"  All  is  well,"  said  she.    "  I  am  now  willing  to  depart.'' 

****** 

One  wpcIc  from  the  marriage  of  Frank  Le  Rux  with 


THE   CONCLUSION.  545 

Minda  Livingsworth,  a  funeral  procession  moved  from 

the  residence  of  Dr.  Willis  in  C . 

Edward  Le  Rux  and  Ella,  as  also  Esquire  Irving 
and  Emily,  were  with  Frank  and  Minda.  They  deeply 
sympathized  with  the  afflicted  ones,  as  they  conveyed 
the  remains  of  their  affectionate  mother  to  the  grave, 
which  was  beside  those  of  Emily's  mother,  father,  and 

grandfather. 

****** 

Frank,  Minda,  and  Alonzo,  in  company  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Irving,  went  to  visit  with  Edward  and  Ella,  a 
day  or  two.  This  concluded,  and  each  having  taken 
an  affectionate  farewell  of  the  others,  they  departed  for 
their  several  destinations  in  life. 

46* 


THE      END. 


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